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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26186050">unhatched mockingjay</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/caandleknight/pseuds/caandleknight'>caandleknight</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, In Denial, Pining, Slow Burn, Smut, Trauma, Year by year, pre-games to post-series</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 05:29:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>33,569</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26186050</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/caandleknight/pseuds/caandleknight</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Primrose’s name was never picked. Katniss and Gale struggle to define who they are. The revolution still happens—along with whippings and kisses—and they have to survive their way through it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Katniss Everdeen/Gale Hawthorne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>59</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. always so little</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Cross posting</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>she earns his respect. he doesn’t earn hers, not yet.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>
      <strong>i. year six</strong>
    </em>
  </p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>In Katniss’ sixth year at school, she sat alone during her lunch hour, at an old rotting table, among the rest. It was oak, and cold. Her eyes used to trace the swirls. Silent and content, her fingers would follow the lines, thick, thin, thick. The bell rang.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>The day is coming when any bell, even the the shrill of the school’s, will ring and burn her ears, filling her lungs with coal.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>In that same year, while learning about coal and it’s properties, the mines exploded. Her breathing is ragged, standing outside the crippled entrance. She feels a boy next to her, ready to collapse.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>(stay above the ground, do not fall to it. never let the weeds tendril through your soul and pull you to its surface.)</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>The boy crumples to his knees: it’s the only time—even after she comes to know him—that she feels taller.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Her father became the ashes she chokes on at even a mention of his name, but she will never absorb into the caverns, unlike her mother, unlike the boy.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>(but the boy’s fall was different than her mother’s, because he rose from those ashes.)</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>It’s her sixth year in school, but her first year in a reaping. She isn’t picked. The bowl was enough of an ocean for Katniss to sink to the bottom. She wants to be the heaviest anchor, but not even an anchor of lead could hold back the Capitol.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>(Poor little mockingjay, unhatched and waiting.)</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>It takes a piece of burned bread to make her eyes harden.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Throwing a bow over her shoulders, arrows into her quiver, the branches of heavy trees watch her. Her first trip, she comes home with nothing, but on her second, a squirrel hangs from her belt.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>On her third, she finds a snare.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>In Katniss’ seventh year, she meets a grey-eyed boy with a guarded gaze and shoulders meant for coal. She’s seen him before, when his knees picked up dirt in its old denim blue, but now he stands taller than her.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>The day Katniss became Catnip was an unwelcomed one. (It was filled with cocky eyebrows, arrogant smiles, and complicated snares.) Katniss was not someone who liked to be mocked.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>She may not have welcomed the name, but she did welcome the company, and only because they brought in more food, together.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>This boy is arrogant, rude, stuck-in-his ways. This boy’s worst weaknesses stem from his every strength: confident, honest, persistent.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>It has to be this way, not that way. “You’re doing it wrong.” He chastises when her fingers stretch a snare wire. He is right, but it pisses her off.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>(It’s so hot, her skin breaks into freckles, but Katniss likes them, they fit in with her scars, and in a world where nothing can truly be yours, the marks on your body define you and are yours to keep.)</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>She sits with the boy on a rock, staring at him warily, in the summer heat where everything blisters.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>
      <strong>ii. year seven</strong>
    </em>
  </p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>When school starts up again after a too short break for summer, Katniss itches for the forest. School was annoying and detrimental. Less time in the forest meant less food, and you can’t skip class too much or else peacekeepers show up at your door.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>She’s in the seventh year of schooling and her lunches are later than Gale’s, she noticed. The senior classes, ninth years and up, have earlier lunches. The halls are too crowded if it’s all the same schedule. District 12 can’t afford multiple schools, to keep the hall population low, so crazy schedules it is.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>She doesn’t know what they are, her and Gale, as of now.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>One day, when her lunch hour starts, and his ends, she gets her answer.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>She is an acquaintance. Looked over, and walked by.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>She shuffles to the auditorium at the bell, and is almost always the first of her age to get there, as she she never stops to chat. She had never actually acknowledged him until their meeting in the woods, but she’d heard whispers of Gale Hawthorne.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>They’d been hunting together a couple of months before she started to notice his presence at lunch. Sitting down, she examined his table. Many popular people sat there, she noted, though she couldn’t name half of them, and all Seam. Of course, the Town and the Seam didn’t really mix. Except one, a girl with blonde twirls, smiling saucily at Gale.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss had heard of the many girls of Gale Hawthorne: this must be one of them.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>The high-schoolers all began to tardy to their classes, leaving Katniss staring at Gale. He turns toward her and they almost make eye contact, so she waves.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>He looks right past her.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Her hand sits awkwardly in the air, misplaced and queasy. She is sitting alone, and the empty seats around her suddenly feel very pressing.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>The next morning, when they’re hunting, brisk air cools on her fingers. She doesn’t even mention the embarrassing exchange. Untying the rabbit from his snare, she’s thankful he doesn’t either, but that’s the thing, isn’t it?</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>He never even noticed: the rabbit falls into her lap at the realization, but only stills for a second before being thrown over her shoulder by its ears.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>She doesn’t want him to wave at her anyway.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>(she’s such a little liar.)</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Later that year, a girl sat down at her table. Blonde, blue eyed, and notably pretty. She unpacks spotty strawberries: they’re old, but she nibbles around the frayed edges.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>It was nice to have a friend, if she could be called that. They’ve never talked.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Gale keeps the creepers off her back, “like a real gentleman.” As he calls himself. Her rolled eyes were enough to make him smirk proudly.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Though, Darius slips by, because he’s joking. Darius is always joking until she’s about fifteen; then, he’s just mostly-joking.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Gale treats her like a child and reasonably so: she’s twelve and small, and he’s fourteen and overgrown. He’s not condescending of course, but he acts as though she is smaller than him. She is, and he’s bigger than her. It really is a big deal. Katniss rolls her eyes again.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Gentleman, more like entitled idiot, but that’s her opinion: other girls see gentleman. Well, not Madge, she tends to sneer. Katniss likes Madge.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>They have a saved spot in Sae’s corner. It’s where he taught her how to bargain.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>He gulps the soup. “Stay stoic. Your good at it, you’ll be fine.” She scowls at Gale, and his hand wipes his face. “Ah. Right there, don’t do that. Don’t let them know they’re pissing you off. You have no idea what you’re doing, but just pretend you do.” She puffs her cheeks and he laughs at her, because once again, she’s transparent.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>She watches him do it a couple times, squirrel for salt, raccoon for—alcohol, two bottles. She raises a brow at him, perturbed, cheeks puffed again. “Really, Gale?”</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>He shrugs his shoulders, “It’s for your mother, Catnip.” Her eyes fractionally widen.Suddenly, she wonders if maybe he’s a thoughtful, entitled idiot.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>An idiot who thinks he’s better than her because he’s a whole two years older, a real gentleman.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>His amount of trading success stings her cheeks red with embarrassment though.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>It may be for her mother, but he still takes a playful sip on the way to her house, thick game bag hidden subtly under his arm. Some peacekeepers aren’t as forgiving as Cray and Darius, but it’s not like they need to be super careful.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Nothing drastic has happen in the district for thirty years. Katniss remembers her father telling her about the whippings, and as she kicks stones from her path, she stares at her toes, frowning with the memory of her dad.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>“Wanna sip?” He asks, good at distracting, slushing a bottle in her face. Her eyes harden, a ‘no’ is on her tongue but Gale’s eyes hold condescending challenge.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>“Sure.” His surprise does not hide well as she grabs the bottle. “Careful, Gale. Don’t let them know they’re pissing you off.” She mocks him, bringing the alcohol to her mouth. It’s a cold liquid, pulling the heat from her lips. As she swallows, the cold becomes a burn and it urges her to croak and cough, but she manages a slight wince in her eyes.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>His eyes widen and she realizes she’s only twelve, but she has a rush of pride at the fact. Gale smirks at her, taking the bottle from Katniss’ grasp. He puts the lid on it and chuckles. “A little alcoholic in the making.” Little, he says, always little. She glares at him.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>“Just call me Haymitch Abernathy.” Then, he really does laugh, and for once, looks at her like her joke was funny instead of her high-pitched voice.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>She will learn, she decides, and she does.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Within the next couple of days, she exceeds his expectations, once again. His small smile holds pride when she walks out of the bakery with a full loaf of bread hugged to her chest.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>It’s a smile, not a smirk.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>The little twelve-year-old traded two squirrels for a loaf of bread. There isn’t a word for his level of impressed, so he just smiles at her: her stoic stare back doesn’t shake his teeth. When she breaks the bread in half to give him some, a respect for her grows in his eyes. One that shows her value.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>He never looks at her like she’s a kid again. Katniss is Katniss, maybe Catnip, depending on her mood. He is Gale, and with half a loaf of warm bakery bread wrapped up in his grasp, Gale can see this partnership thing working out.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>She’ll make her money back for every shitty trade, one loaf at a time.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. hanging from an apple tree</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>she climbs a tree, and he sees her smile</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em> <strong>iii. year eight</strong> </em>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss notes how he’s two different people, maybe more. She notices that’s how most people are, even Prim, quiet smiles and soft hands around others, and fiercely passionate in their skeleton home.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He’s so boisterous in the cafeteria, drawing eyes and keeping them, but in the woods, he’s quiet and simple, direct in every choice. He’s different in the Hob too, overconfident and brave, but he’s trying to be different there.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She doesn’t believe Gale’s aware of it, and she wonders if she’s like that.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>It’s her eighth year, and she finally spoke to Madge, the girl at her table. The blonde explains why she sat with her.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“At first,” she whispered, chaotic people chatter around. “It was because of that mining accident. I watched you at the ceremony.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>It clicks in her mind, the blonde curls on the bone dry platform. The one they use for reapings, and it occurs to her that Gale was also present, with his shakingly sturdy shoulders, with his dirty denim knees. They’d never really talked about it. She doesn’t know if that was a conscious choice, and she doesn’t know if she wants to know.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p><em>“I sat with you out of pity.”</em> These are not Madge’s words, but this is the meaning Katniss puts behind them. Katniss doesn’t like pity, doesn’t want people to think she needs them.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Madge continued, “But now I stay, ‘cause I enjoy it, this comfortable silence. The Town tables are always filled with useless, irritating talking.” That, she can agree with: though, she’s never really sat there.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Her and Madge, chat a little more, and Katniss likes this, genuine and sweet. Madge is actually really funny.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Did you hear Genevieve had sex?” An accent leaks into Madge’s joking tone, half-Capitol and half annoying. “Ugh, you’ll never guess with who!” She fans her face mockingly. Then, she pushes her palms onto the table, and gapes her eyes at Katniss. “How’d you know it was Gale <em>Hawthorne?</em>” The absolute sneer is showing as she exaggerated his surname.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss winces. He’s had sex? He’s only—fifteen. Katniss realizes that’s plenty old enough to do things like that. She wonders who, when, where?</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She notes that Madge can also be many different people, but she feels real when she sits hear with Katniss.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The bell whistles and she doesn’t wave to Gale.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Later that year, they hunt together, just like always. He’s even better with snares, if that’s even possible. She’s improved her shot, which is nice. Her stomach is still predominantly empty but that’s also improving.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Since they met, He’s grown past six feet, and she’s grown barely an inch, but her hair has grown five and still holds her braid. She hasn’t heard a whiff of puberty, but of course not. With no nutrients, you can’t really grow.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>It’s a good trip though. Gale finds an apple tree in the autumn, and tries to climb it, but his over-six-feet ass doesn’t make it a foot.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Her barely-breaking-five-feet ass does. Before Katniss knows it, she’s sitting on a branch looking down at him. It feels good to look down at him, and she hopes his neck gets a good stretch in looking up.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Want an apple, Hawthorne?” She’s taken to calling him that.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“I’d love one, Catnip.” If he won’t grace Katniss with her name, she won’t give him his.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Sucks you can’t get up here, then.” She mocks and he smirks. He looks to the end of her branch. There’s clearly a green orb that’s within his six-foot reach, plus arms. Her eyes widen as he ambles over, lifting the branch at her side suddenly. The branch crackles unsettlingly, but she remains on the branch. Katniss pulls the treat just barely out his grasp—not really—he’s humouring her.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Gale looks to her again, raising a thick brow in question. She knocks her leather boots at him in mock laughter. The boots are frayed brown, and their <em>cluck</em> is satisfying when she sees him swallow in amusement. They both know he can jump and grab the apple, but this is fun.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss eyes twinkle at him without her knowledge. She sticks her tongue out: Gale is quick to respond. Her leg gets snatched by a strong hand and she’s falling. Not quite though, her fingers latch the branch, splintering her fingers as she hangs, face to face with him.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She pulls herself back up before she can notice how her nose almost brushed his.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She sits on the bark again, protecting her legs criss-crossing them out reach. The autumn branches make her face glow orangey as she smiles at him, with natural teeth, a little crooked but not noticeably so: endearing is a better word. She was lucky like that, knowing some kids whose teeth wrangle out of their mouths. Little Vick has a gap in his teeth, but it’s a cute one, and she knows Gale prays it doesn’t get worse than that.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He stares at her when her lips quirk upward, mouth slightly agape, face reddened like the leaves and it pisses her off. What’s wrong now? Her smile leaves her face quickly. Plucking an apple, she hits him right in his thoughtful, idiotic face.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Ow!” She laughs from her perch, and he’s looking her again from the grass where he’d fallen in shock. Apple rolling at his feet. He got hit a little harder than Isaac Newton, she muses. Ah school, teaching her of useless people. Maybe not useless, she had just made a connection.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She’s laughing hard still, at the great Gale, knocked off his feet. She barely feels an apple hit her in the shoulder, knocking her balance.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She falls right on top of him with a <em>thud</em>, knocking the air from his lungs, stolen it for hers. She’s isn’t heavy; her bones are visible from every angle, but she’s definitely heavier than an apple.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He’s gasping far too roughly to notice how she straddled him. She’s rolls off of him to still on the ground, and she’s turning away before her cheeks get as red as his.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>A little thought enters her mind distinctly and never really leaves: how many girls have been where she was? Except, with less clothes and more curves: he probably didn’t even notice what had happened.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>After Madge’s little joke, the thoughts can’t seem to leave her.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(He did notice though, noticed her smile, her laugh. He’s pushing up on his elbows to see her climb back up the tree, because they need those apples. Her braid sways back and forth, like a clock’s pendulum.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Just now, he notices she’s a girl, a pretty one.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>It didn’t last long enough, her laugh, the curve of her lips that drew his eyes involuntarily. After that, he never stops searching for them.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Somewhere along the line, acquaintance changes. She notices his glance now. When she hands him an apple the next day, his eyes really start to haunt her.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She’s sitting as silent as ever with Madge, as the older kids start to leave. He waits behind as his friends take off, and as he finally walks by, he rests a knuckle on the table, and meets her eyes to whisper. “See ya later, Catnip.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He’s gone, and Madge questions, with a little mirth and a little more sneer in her tone. “Catnip? I didn’t know you were friends with Gale Hawthorne.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She didn’t either, but as she holds green apple in her grasp, her lips curve up only slightly.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em> <strong>iv. year nine</strong> </em>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The ninth year confuses her. The class schedule is vexing, and at fourteen she doesn’t want to learn the order.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Now, her lunch period falls in line with Gale’s. This fact shouldn’t make her skin bubble the way it does.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Oddly, he’d gotten even taller, not too much though. Sometimes, Katniss wonders, if he’d had enough food throughout the years, how tall he would’ve been.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss hadn’t grown, much to Gale’s amusement. He likes to rest his arm on her head. He still treats her like she’s smaller than him: she still is, but it’s different now, but she can’t place why.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>It’s an annoying tactic in the Hob, but it works. It makes people underestimate her.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>When she laughs over Sae’s soup one day, little tufts of hair framing her soft, freckled face, he notices. His own heavy chuckles resonate with hers, quiet and light.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Don’t stare; it’s creepy.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She can’t know what he’s feeling. <em>Gale</em> doesn’t know what he’s feeling.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Though their table had changed, her and Madge still sat together, but this time Katniss found her first, went looking for her, in fact. The sparkle in her blue eyes when Katniss sat down with her said more than their mouths ever had to.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Madge always has the moldiest of strawberries, but she always brings them anyway, searching for a treat. Katniss watches her, “Why don’t you just stop buying them?” The heat was sweltering in the room as the summer sun beats down on the building.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Madge looks shocked, dropping the bitten sweet. “I, uh, they’re my favourite.” Katniss nods. Then, she looks at Gale, and a thought enters her head. It’s summer, after all. If there’s an apple tree, there’s a strawberry bush</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“I could bring you some fresh ones.” And her eyes widen, sparkling.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Actually?” Katniss nods, wiping her sweaty forehead as a mission forms.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“What are you doing?” Cleaning an arrow, he watches as she teeters to a strawberry bush. She starts sorting, slowly, looking for the best. Pulling a cloth from her bag, she rests her first berry on it.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Well, the mayor really likes strawberries, and I convinced him to trade with us.” She rolls up her sleeves, and bites the inside of her cheek. He watches her a little more as the golden sun lights up her face.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He sets down his game bag, and trudges over to help. “You convinced his daughter.” When exactly did he get to know her so well?</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She grabs a plump strawberry. “Pretty much.” Putting it down on the cloth, she watches Gale eat one, and she whispers mockingly. “I hope there wasn’t a bug in that.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He chokes after swallowing. Her laughter makes him glare at her, gulping, “I hope so too, because it’s too late.” He starts to pile strawberries in with the others.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The sun beats down on them, darkening their already olive skin tones. After a little while, he voices an opinion. “That girl is so privileged, rich, clean, <em>fed</em>. She can have anything she wants.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss stops, glaring at him, “that’s not her fault.” She doesn’t deny it. Her finger are red with strawberries as they squeeze in defence. They kneel beside each other softly, sweaty summers making them smell a little bit gross.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He looks her in the eyes, “I know, but do you really think she’ll get reaped instead of you? With her three slips, and your twelve?” Gale’s voice raises slightly.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Her eyes meet his in challenge as she gathers up their strawberries. She wants to be angry, but she realizes, he’s been <em>counting</em>.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss hadn’t, but after Gale says her number, she starts counting his. Tesserae, tesserae, all the mandatory...</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“That’s not her fault.” She repeats, putting the berries in her bag. He has so many slips, small, little things.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“I know.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>What are the odds?</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>When they arrive at the mayor’s door, Katniss holds the berries on his burnt-orange deck, too afraid to knock. Gale does for her.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Her pigeon stance jolts when Mayor Undersee opens the door. He looks confused. “Your daughter told me she liked strawberries.” Katniss murmurs, the hardwood door echoes to her eyes. The house inside looks pristine, lovely. She knows Gale sees it too.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He pays them gratuitously, never questioning how they had them in the first place.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(Katniss understands this. If you don’t ask questions, you don’t care. Mayor Undersee won’t take care of them, just like they won’t take care of the shelter kids.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Loyalty is big in this district: caring is dangerous.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The corridors of the school were a blistering cold. She could feel it through her shoes. Winter had always been the worst time to hunt, with the dying herbs and hiding game.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Gale jokes sardonically and about how lucky they are that the baker boy likes her so much. He sounded catty, and his eyes were flaring; after all, a loaf of bread is hardly worth two squirrels, but Katniss says its just her bargaining talents, aware that his eyes catch her lie.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Gale isn’t the only boy in the room she makes eye contact with. The youngest of the Mellarks had been staring at her endlessly, the one who gifted her bread.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She pretends not to notice. Gale can’t help but see it. He does nothing from his table ten feet a way from her and five from Peeta, but his eyes can’t stop their glare.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Something wrong, Gale?” His friend Thom asks with concern. Gale shakes his head in denial, but keeps glaring. Peeta Mellark ducks his head, but not in shame. He just isn’t a fighter, and for some reason, that makes Gale get goosebumps and guilt.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss has always been a watcher, in hunting, in school. She observes how the Merchants’ children have lockers, paid for and reserved, to store their plethora of items. Items Katniss will never know.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>When she finally did figure out her class schedule, she realized that their grey eyes got to meet each other in the halls, as cold, leaky and cramped as they were.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>They passed each other between second and third period, and then between fourth and fifth. He bumps her shoulder with his every time, leaving a little grin in his wake.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The world of gossip took notice, though not for long. Because a shoulder bump after second period, and an absence after fourth, is nothing in comparison. Katniss saw him leaning against one of those expensive merchant’s locker, chatting up another blonde.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>This one is in her year though, and that bothers her, to be overlooked. If Gale’s flirting with a girl in her year, it means he’s okay with it, a girl younger than him—her age—and he never even considered her. Funnily, Kattniss doesn’t want to be looked at, not by him, not by anyone. Blaming the feeling on her competitive streak, her pride, she feels slightly less insecure.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Her stomach clenches, and suddenly, her hair feels too dirty to be pretty. Her fingers fiddle her braid with held breaths. Her clothes are too heavy, leaving too much looking boxy, and the frayed stitches are calling her out.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>As she watches them, Katniss scrounges for a name, and fills in Marie. She’s a blue-eyed beauty, of course, and... and nothing, it shouldn’t matter to her.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>It shouldn’t bother her, because Marie’s no different than the others.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>After all, she’d heard whispers of Gale Hawthorne. She’s another of the many, and just because she’s her age, doesn’t make her any different.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The next day, Marie brags to her friends, about their trip to the slagheap. In front of them, Katniss slouches in her desk, desperate to melt into it.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Madge gifts her a pin, saying it’s lucky: for the reaping. The pin is real gold; it could feed her family for months.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>But she doesn’t sell it. She does consider it every time her stomach growls, every time Gale needs a break because of a hot flash. The closest she comes is when Prim’s cheeks start to hollow. She still doesn’t sell it.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>It’s Prim’s first reaping, Rory’s second.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Gale’s last, he’s got 42 slips in the bowl.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Gale and her hunt every day. They never mention his adventures to the slagheap, ever.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He’s finally stopped growing, vertically that is. Muscles are still developing, along with their skills as hunters; they can put weight on. Gale created some new snares and they work amazingly.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She hit puberty, and it’s showing through her body. Soft curves with rigid edges. Sometimes, looking in the mirror, she subconsciously questions if there will ever be a day when she can’t see her ribs.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>One day, on the way home from the Hob, horrible cramping brings her to her knees. Gale, who was right beside her, is instantly on the rescue. He picks her up, probes her, receiving no answers. His mind goes through all the possibilities.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Are you alright?” His eyes whip every direction they can, and she just nods. Gale drags her deadweight to the Everdeen’s front door. His shoulders scream worried, and Katniss sees how fragile he is, how much nothing has changed since the mines collapsed.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Gale gets attached so easily, too easily. This amount of concern should not be his downfall. She doesn’t understand him. Why his voice cracks when he tells her mother what happened.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Her mother watches as he panics—Katniss hadn’t wanted him to—but he didn’t know what to do. He talks and stammers, holding Katniss to his chest. Mrs. Everdeen stares blankly, and her eyes go wide with recognition, only thirty seconds late. She ushers Gale inside and gets him to put Katniss down on their old couch.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Then, her mom tells him to leave, and he instantly fights this request, but Primrose grabs his arm, dragging Gale to the door. The twelve-year-old has a strong grip.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>There was too much blood, and red always made Katniss queasy. Luckily for her, her mother started being receptive two months ago.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The next day was the only day she’d ever missed hunting. She claims sickness, which wasn’t totally a lie.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>His eyes follow her for the rest of the hunt, staying right behind her like he’s ready for a collapse, but she thinks he’ll be the one falling with how much he puts himself out there. Either of them could be reaped, and he still puts his heart into everything.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She will never collapse like that again. It’s a promise only she heard.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>After a particularly bad haul one day, they stop for their trades at the Hob, saving two squirrels for the baker. They get most of their trading done, and it’s not good. Sitting in silence with Gale is usually more enjoyable, but today it’s tampered with worry.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>No lunches for either of them this week, just breathes of cold fog.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“What’s got you two in a shitty mood today?” Sae inquires, stirring her pot. Gale and her stare at it hungrily. They can’t afford a bowl and Greasy Sae can’t afford to give any out.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Shitty haul.” Gale supplies, rubbing his gloved hands together in the cold. The Hob moves around them, little snowflakes peak in the cracked windows.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>They all sit enjoying the company of a swirling soup. Darius arrives, and he’s twirling her braid. He suggests a trade and it piques her interest.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“A squirrel for a kiss?” He purrs in her ear. She scoffs, turning away.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Gale is on the defence rather quickly. He stands in front of the peacekeeper, ready for a fight. The ginger grins knowingly and the mock shows in his eyes.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss forces Gale back down, flicking his forehead. His grey eyes widen and their burn depletes.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Maybe later, Darius.” She offers, knowing he’d leave. Her eyes never left Gale’s as she witnesses anger in his coal built armour at her statement.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She turns to Sae, ignoring his almost... pouting. Katniss sees a crooked smile behind wise eyes. Katniss lifts a brow in question, and the elder mumbles about “obliviousness”.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Here, kiddos, no charge.” Her cracked nails push four dirty carrots towards them. Gale picks them up hesitantly, about to argue. Debts are not something you have in the Seam. “Okay, fine, call it payment. How’s that? For all the times I robbed you kids before y’learned the difference between shit and gold?”</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>This quiets him, and Gale hands her two. The bigger two, so she swats him, trading him the biggest of hers for his smallest. Even, or close enough.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He smiles at her, brightly, fully: it’s a mix of all his weird smiles. The thoughtful quirks of his cheek, the entitled grin, and the idiotic smirk, full and crisp. She returns it when the corner of her mouth lifts.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Sae shoes them to the baker claiming she’s going to throw up.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Only when she’s alone later that night does she realize Gale had given her his forest smile.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(She dared to hope, that maybe his smile wasn’t for the forest, maybe it was for her.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She rolls over, ignoring the thought.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The next day, when they meet eyes across the room, his smile appears again. Then, he chomps a carrot dramatically, as she nibbles at hers.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Madge enjoys fresh strawberries quietly across from her. It felt so nice to have a lunch, to have someone to share it with.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(The pin of the mockingjay anchors in her pocket, and Katniss just <em>knows</em>.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The Everdeens and the Hawthornes escape the reaping.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>All of them, bless them, oh bless the odds.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Peeta Mellark and Madge Undersee do not. Odds are not to be favoured.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. whipping in the snow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>she really shouldn’t have given him that turkey.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div>
  <p>
    <strong>
      <em>v. year nine: addendum </em>
    </strong>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Unlike the usual meet at the Hawthorne residence after a reaping, she visits the tributes. Both of them. She had a debt to repay, after all.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Peeta smiles warmly when he sees her. He even hugs her, and she finally says thank you. It’s not repaid, but it’s all she’ll ever get. He looks at her openly and with adoring eyes, but Katniss doesn’t want to think about it. She smiles at him with forced teeth because she doesn’t think he’ll come home, so it’s fine to let him hope. Her mouth physically hurt after their visit, and she decides, she hates forcing herself to smile.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>When Katniss visits Madge, they say more than they ever really had.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“I wish we had more time to talk.” Madge whispers as she giggles through glossy-teared eyes.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Funny.” She whispers back. Madge wipes her eyes.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Grabbing the pin, Katniss latches it onto Madge, poking her finger on the needle. There is no pain. “For luck. It protected me, it’s your turn.” A heaviness in her throat makes her pause. “You better be back in time to give it to me before the next reaping.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Madge nods, diving for a hug. As Katniss wraps her arms around her friend, she knows she won’t come home.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(Poor little mockingjay, unhatched but waiting.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>When she does get to that gathering at Gale’s house, everyone is already eating, though solemnly. Chewy bites and breathing fill the usually lively atmosphere.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>They eat bread and jerky. After slaving for the reaping, they have enough for this next week, specifically.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She remembers watching the meat, agonizingly slow as it cured and dried. Gale had been next to her, and his boredom had gotten so bad he’d fiddled her braid like he was Darius.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Melting snow watches her through the cracked window in Gale’s house as she chomps it. Mandatory viewing will be horrifying in these next couple weeks and Katniss numbly chews, squashing the little put in her stomach.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“How was your visit with Madge?” His voice rings sincerity. He’s asking for Katniss, not for himself. He’d never liked her, and Katniss knows that, but he wishes the games on no one.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Depressing.” She turns to him. Gale’s handsome features are highlighted by the setting sun through the window they stare out.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“I’m sorry, about what I said about her.” He whispers as their eyes meet. “That’s the funny thing about the odds. There’s no such thing as them ‘falling in your favour’. They’ll fall where they want to.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“It’s horrible.” She bites the jerky.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Yeah.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>After a beat, she murmurs. “I visited Peeta too, actually.” She doesn’t know why she feels the need to tell him this.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>His eyes flicker quickly. Molten silver goes dull, granite. His shoulders close, trying to fold in on themselves. It’s reminiscent of his confrontation with Darius, but less aggressive and far less warranted. Peeta wasn’t a physical threat. This is not anger.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>It’s... unknown, she doesn’t know this look like she knows the rest, but it’s catching his breath like that first whiff of coal dust always does in the mornings.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Funnily, it’s not that much of a change, but after years spent hunting, she knows his body well. She blushes, not that well. Then, she blinks her stupid thoughts away.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He shakes his head. The look is gone. ”Why?”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She tells him of her debt, and how she’s never repayed it. With a sarcastic tone and pencil dulled eyes, he tells her, “He’s had a huge crush on you forever.” He whispers through snarky teeth, teeth clenched too roughly to be fully joking.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>It’s a joke, but Katniss hears apprehensive fear. She knows he’s right, because she always saw the way Peeta looked at her, unguarded and true.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“He has not.” It falls flat.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She looks away, and Gale watches her while she enjoys the jerky, looking contemplative, with hollow eyes. He swallows.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Primrose is making flower crowns with Rory. The flowers were blooming beautifully. They join them; every time Gale threads a flower to Katniss, their fingers brush, and he doesn’t ignore it, but she tries to. She thinks of his eyes, how they burn her.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>When Madge was reaped Katniss was not thinking of how lonely she would be. She’s in an ocean of noise: the pressure is thick on her scalp.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>It’s weird, she thinks, because she was alone for years before Madge ever sat with her. It should be easy to go back to that. They never even really talked.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She watches. It’s what she does. People gossiping, chatting, most are starving. Almost everyone sits with someone. This is normal for the district of ash. She stares at her empty hands and has the urge to cry. It’s pathetic, honestly, this feeling. She doesn’t need anyone, but then again, it’s not like anyone would see her fall if she did. No one’s here.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Then, there is a movement in front of her, or maybe, he’s a saving grace. His eyes are open, warm, but determined and forceful. Gale never did anything softly, maybe kindly, but never softly. He was always pushing and pulling and demanding, she hates this quality of his, but admires it the same. Katniss just avoids her problems, tries to slip through the cracks.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(Stubbornness or persistence. Arrogance or confidence. Stupidity or bravery. These all define him to his core.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He sits down in front of her. The cafeteria concusses, not too harshly though. After all, not everyone cares, but the shallow few continue to whisper. She looks to his usual table, where eyes of his friends follow with judging pretences.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Gale Hawthorne with a tenth year?</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Yeah, the stoic one. Isn’t she friends with the tributes?</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“You don’t have to-“ she tries to fight the pressure of the eyes pulsing her frayed clothing, judging her. She fiddles.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“I want to. I’m done caring what they think. You’re my... best friend.” It’s almost like he struggled to find the words for it.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The next day, Thom, Gale’s longtime friend sits with them. Katniss enjoys him around, he fills the silences in a non-irritating way. It’s very hard to come by.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“You know, Katniss, you’re very pretty, in a scary sort of way.” Thom distractedly murmurs before continuing on to the next topic, ginger eating peanuts. Only one at a time; Thom is starving too.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>His compliment shocks her and her face goes pink. Thom with his naturally kind eyes doesn’t say this salaciously. He just says it, because he can, like it’s a fact.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>No one’s has ever called her pretty in a nice way. In the Hob, men are around every corner with whispers of, “Hey, Pretty girly...” their teeth are yellowed and their eyes are always shallow, and their breath makes her want to hurl. Gale spits threats at them every time on the way by.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Even now, Gale looks at Thom a little threateningly, but then he realizes the same thing as her: he’s not doing it to be flirty or creepy. Thom called her pretty because he thought it was true. Gale glances at her before staring at his hands, tracing his fingers down his knuckles.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>In the woods that very same day, she’s on the way to the strawberry bush. Her hands almost pluck one when her brain finally catches up to her. Almost as if he knows, because of course he does, Gale lightly grasps her elbow and drags her away from the plant.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>As he unwraps a squirrel from his snare, she watches him with glassy eyes. “Thom’s right, you know.” He mumbles distractedly, almost nervously, trying to pry the squirrels tail from its uncomfortable position. When he glances at her shocked face, his eyes widen, “...in a scary sort of way.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(Gale knows her so well, because the strawberry bush is forgotten.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She smacks him on the arm with a smile.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(He didn’t even directly say it. Pretty, it didn’t even leave his lips, but her heart still fluttered in that special little way. It hadn’t done that when Thom said it.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Pretty, come on Katniss, he hadn’t even said it.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Gradually, more people sit with them, and Katniss starts to hate it. She encroaches and hides her looks of distaste reasonably well, but Gale glances at her with knowing eyes.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>It gets harder to hide as the games go on. The constant anxiety. Will Madge be alive when Katniss gets home to turn on the rickety television? Will Peeta? Would this girl please stop talking?</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The people at the table talk of the hidden romance. Has Peeta turned on Madge, oh the tragedy? The last straw is a flirty merchant girl, settling her over-swayed hips in Madge’s spot, beside Gale. When Katniss gets up to leave, he hops up with her, leaving the girl stunned.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Wanna walk around?.” He asks leaning down, even though he already knows the answer. She looks back a the table, watches as Thom gets up to join them.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(Loyalty in this district is everything.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Marvell kills Rue, and in a rage, Madge stabs him in the back. Over and over (Rue’s dead Madge, why don’t you understand?), her hands are red with no strawberries in sight. Marvell leaks, oozes the crimson, scarring every piece of skin the blood has touched.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The one named Rue, she cries, oh she cries. “Sing to me, sing to me, Madge.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Madge can’t sing, her tone is so flat, voice is too high, but the pure emotion reflecting off the pin, cracking off her voice, brings the district to its knees, and Katniss feels like all of Panem will follow, even if the Capitol cut to another tribute. They all saw, and these people never unsee.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(Poor little mockingjay, hatched and bleeding.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Madge Undersee and Peeta Mellark win the 74th annual Hunger Games, together.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <strong>vi. year ten: quarter quell</strong>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>There isn’t really a need to pick strawberries anymore, since they can be shipped in personally from the Capitol for the Undersees, but she’s got six days to fill without Gale.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The Capitol sends fresh strawberries, no spots or mush. It pisses Katniss off that now, Madge is important enough to send fresh strawberries.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She brings them to Madge’s doorstep in Victor’s Village. It’s the most pristine place she’s ever set her feet. Ringing the doorbell scares her. The little button dings when pushed, causing her eyes to widen: she doesn’t know how such technology worked. Dropping the carton of strawberries would’ve been embarrassing, her mind supplies the image.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Madge opens the door crookedly with a hollow smile, in fancy clothes that do not suit her. No one ever wins the games. Katniss has heard the whispers. She offers the plump berries, and Madge compensates with a sack. It’s a heavy bag, heavy with regrets, heavy with opportunities, and materialistically, heavy with money.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>More than Katniss had ever seen, twenty gold coins. “I’m sorry I can’t give more. The Capitol has rules against—“ Madge’s eyes widen, and she pushes the bag further into her grasp. “Just take it.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>At first she tries to refuse. Her pride can’t let her. It’s a push and pull between the two girls, and Madge’s eyes are shallow and sad. Katniss can’t just take a bag of money. Katniss doesn’t need a bag of money, doesn’t need anything.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>But then, oh wait, her heart sinks to Gale, and his 72 hour weeks in the mines that buried their fathers, and of Prim’s hollowed cheeks, and Posy’s stomach aches, and Rory’s growing pains, which she believes to be worse than Gale’s. He’ll be taller than his brother, for sure.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>And, and, and, there are too many people to count. Her pride isn’t worth the lives it’s holding back.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(But it’s charity.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>So she takes it, says she will repay it when winter comes. Madge tells her that her company is enough. The blonde is hollow as she shuts the door, leaving Katniss on her porch with a bag of money and an itch to knock again.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She does knock again. Madge answers again.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>When she comes home with a bag of quality buttons and patches of new fabric, Prim doesn’t raise a brow, but her mother does.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Mrs. Everdeen has no questions though, hasn’t had questions for years.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>If she’s taking charity, none of it will be for herself: a pair of gloves stare at her from the seamstresses countertop. The market is bustling and Katniss wonders if they’re Gale’s size.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss gives Hazelle a stuffed little bunny, little sneakers for Vick, not new but quality, and hilariously, three sticks of deodorant. “One for each son, especially Gale.” Katniss meekly smiles. The mother looks very thankful and laughs at the jab.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“They get it from their father, I swear to God.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Hazelle isn’t too questioning either, until she arrives with a little too much to be believable.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>When autumn becomes a little colder, Katniss arrives at the Hawthorne door one Friday night, before Gale gets home from his shift. Katniss hugs the gloves she holds in her hands all the way down the street.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She just had to: as the weather freezes the puddles, the cold air will seep into the mine shafts. Katniss remembers how numbed blue her father used to be. She had to get them.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>With a slight knock, Hazelle opens the door, a sleepy Posy on her shoulder. Katniss’ gaze nervously meets his mother’s. She holds out her prize, new, leather gloves, made for tough work and cooling temperatures. Made for big hands, to keep them warm.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss wants him comfortable, warm.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Hazelle’s grey eyes flicker in recognition as she bounces lightly to keep the child asleep, a motherly habit by now. Sometimes, when they talk, Katniss see the woman’s throbbing stance even with no child in sight.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The girl in her arms, twirly haired, hugs a bunny, huddling into her mother’s shoulder.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Please, don’t tell him I bought these.” She says quietly and the beautiful mother’s eyebrows lower softly as a wisp smile grows.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“He’ll know, Katniss, the moment he sees them.” Katniss nods in awareness, but then Hazelle asks a question. “Where are you getting the money for this?” Her bouncing stutters slightly, “Oh God, not Cray—“</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>A gust of wind picks up in the darkening sky. “No!” Relief flutters over the older woman’s face. “Just—don’t tell him, please.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“He’ll know.” Posy hiccups, nearly dropping the bunny.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“I know.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“You don’t need to buy things for my family, Katniss.” She shrugged. The trees help her hide from him, but she never can.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Without hesitation, Katniss states the excuses she had planned and prodded. “I found the shoes. The bunny was Prim’s and well, the deodorant was for my poor nose.” She plugged her nose jokingly, haughtily whipping her braid at him. He threw a pile of browning leaves at her.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss knew Gale accepted her answer, so she sighs.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“And the gloves?” He says after a minute.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She’s been planning this lie since she saw them on the counter. “I found them in a box of my father’s old things.” Please, just once, don’t be able to tell she’s lying. “He never got to wear them.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Maybe it’s the fact that she pulled the father-card, but it’s probably the fact that he’s fatigued and barely able to stay on his feet. For the millionth time, she’s thinking about the twelve hours daily he spends in the dirt, and the six he barely spends sleeping, usually less.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He’s sitting on their rock and his shoulder are so heavy. “Gale, you should go home. You’re exhausted.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“If my father could do it, so can I.” They are both very fond of this card.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(but, oh gale, you’re so young. you didn’t ask for three kids: your father did, but he asked for four. you were his kid once, remember?</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>you were a kid once.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The day Hazelle’s husband died, is the day she also lost a son. For a while, she kept them above the wake, on her own, but she barely has income, and she can’t be a miner. “Gale honey, you’re so young, go have fun.” But they’re starving, and as she’s cleaning clothes, he’s cleaning kills.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(“What’s fun?” he asks with dirty denim knees.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>oh Gale honey.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>They eat strawberries: the juice stains their fingers. Katniss’ lips pucker from the constant moisture, but Madge loves it.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“The Capitol has an unwritten rule against charity. Snow doesn’t think the victors shouldn’t spend their earnings like that.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>That’s what she was going to say on her porch, but you never know who’s listening.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“I remember how everyone hated Haymitch for never helping. They’ll hate me, too.” She isn’t wrong, and Katniss can picture Gale’s anger as they watched the man of Seam descent wallow and drink and kill every tribute except two.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>They go on walks together, sometimes, her and Madge. This is a sad walk, filled with confessions.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Madge is now unchanging, uncompromising of herself, no longer three people. She is one and she is sad. When towns kids walk by she holds her head high.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She is broken, telling Katniss about Peeta, how hard it is to fake. She rubs her hands on the dress, scorching the red. “It won’t go away.” She murmurs to Katniss.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss could never imagine.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She gets a sack of money, every time she brings strawberries. She hopes Madge doesn’t think that’s the reason she goes. It’s on the edge of her teeth, the confession of enjoying her company. It never escapes.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(One of these days, she wants to show up without strawberries, just to be there, with her friend.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She thinks Madge knows, but just in case, she grabs extra strawberries, every time. Hoping she enjoys them, Katniss holds them out proudly. She gets more money, and a smile.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>This time, she gets a pin in the stash.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(This isn’t an equivalent trade this is gifts and debtless friendship.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>It comes with a note, “For the next reaping.” Katniss squeezes the pin into her palm, even after it breaks the skin.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Red leaks down her hands, too.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(This is friendship, she thinks, giving without debts.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>One day, she skips school to visit Madge. Running into Peeta Mellark on the way out, they chat quietly as he gardens, with simple statements.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Things are good, the reaping is miles away, and everyone is being fed. The forest is alive and his eyes still burn her, but only a little. His fire has chilled and what she used to hate she yearns for. Burn her, please.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“It’s almost your birthday, hey?” She asks, counting her arrows. Losing an arrow is like losing a limb. They are so hard to make, after all, especially since it’s getting cold. When it goes into the brush and never comes back, she wants to shout like Gale.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Is it? I can’t even tell anymore.” It’s the slight raise in his tone that makes her look at him. He’s staring at the lake, always staring, watching it harden to ice. His eyes reflect dreams of running, abandoning this horrible district. She can see the weight of the mines hanging off his arthritic shoulders, almost cracking with every bend.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(oh gale, you’re so young. arthritic shoulders aren’t meant for boys of only eighteen.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He used to have such a fire in him: she can feel it being smothered more with every day he goes underground. Only his embers rest. Her hands ache with a need to pour gasoline.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss used to ignore his ranting, overlook it, but now, she almost plants seeds, just so Gale can trample them.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She used to wonder where the men like Gale went.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>How can it be just him who wants to fight, to break free? There should be more than a few rebels in the world, right? Turns out, there are. When she looks at them, she can see the men they used to be: Panem has a way of squeezing the life out you, one mineshaft at a time. The other districts have their own coal mine of sorts, she realizes.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(Just let us steal your children, but don’t forget, it’s your fault we make a gladiator ring out of twelve-year-old bones and eighteen-year-old tears.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She watches as he unlatches a rabbit, wishing she could steal that weight from him, but then, a turkey catches her attention. She shoots it in two seconds flat. The sadness in him is forgotten.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Walking over to the animal, she leans down. “We haven’t visited Cray in a while.” She says, picking up the bird by the neck.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“I’ll do it.” He never lets her go to the peacekeeper alone. She wants to argue, because she can handle herself, but it’s almost his birthday, and Madge’s money has given her an opportunity they’ve never had. Maybe, this will make his shoulders rise in hope, make him catch fire.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>This choice, as small as it seems, is the gasoline. She hands him the turkey, and she will regret it for the rest of her life.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>They should have known. She knows this. He knows this. With how tense Panem is with the rhythm of rebellion. They should’ve known poaching was the worst idea in history.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss is making a trade at the bakery: buying a cake, a small undetailed one, with the gifted currency. She is never frivolous.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>A cake for a birthday, the first the Hawthornes and Everdeens will experience. She smiles at the thought.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She can see it now, little Posy’s excitement. Gale’s smile when she’ll whisper, “Happy Birthday, Gale.” in his ear.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(oh gale, you’re so young, just barely nineteen.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>you will have at least two scars on your back for every year.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>at least.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Gale knocks on Cray’s door, turkey by his toes. One Romulus Thread opened the door. White armoured and sneering; Gale’s first instinct is not his best one.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Where’s Cray?” Desperation drips.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Crack...crack...crack. People ran towards the square. The bakery did not let a sound in, so she just watched the movement through the window.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She spends another two minutes of her short life, examining cakes, contemplating what he’d like, knowing she should go cheap, but for once, she wants him to have something of quality, just once. She regretted it, looking back.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The eldest Mellark brother pokes his head in. He looks like a doe: his are eyes shaking. The Mellarks all had matching aprons and eyes, that’s all you had to look for when finding one.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(They can never have, just once.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“There’s a whipping.” The opened door let’s the crack in. Everything in her world halts. Every possibility passing through her mind, Katniss pounces. Her braid drags behind as the leather of her father’s hunting jacket shackles her lungs with pressure, apprehension.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Crack. Maybe it isn’t him.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Crack. Maybe it is.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(Just once, don’t be him, please.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She’d never gone so fast, and before she knows it, she’s in the square. Chaos erupts, and all the people—raven-haired and blonde—watched from the outside of an invisible boundary.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Crack. Katniss sees Thom, sees Marie, and many others Gale had been friends with. No one does anything, but it’s not like they can in 12. If they interfere, his fate becomes theirs.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She interferes after witnessing one lash, and that one only landed because she wasn’t fast enough.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>There must have been thirty already, and Gale’s arthritic shoulders have dropped unconscious, cracking of whips and bones. Blood fills the bricked ground, lining the crevices, trading places with the snowfall.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>It’s in her hair, the snow, and it’s something that’s touching everyone, holding them all together with a thread of ice. The people circle around her, Gale and Romulus Thread. The snow is as cold as the peacekeeper’s heart.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She gets one across her cheek. The mark left there will be as white as Prim’s skin on her olive face. As a reminder, forever of who she failed to protect.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Which cake would you like? How could she be so stupid?</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>These are her thoughts as she lay there on the concrete. Gale stumbles awake, drowsily, and they make eye contact. He is shoddy and fearful and he is whispering her name. His voice is too rough to understand, so full of pain.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(oh katniss, oh gale, you’re both so young.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She can slightly understand him though. He is asking her if she is alright. Gale’s back is shredded to pieces and he’s asking her if she’s okay.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She wants to sob, tell him “yes, I’m okay.” Instead, she screeches reactively in pain. Crack.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Catnip!” She hates that he’s awake. The pain only comes when you wake up. Trembling, he can barely speak. Red trickles down his back, and from her place on the cobble stone she can trace it with her gaze. The edges of her hair touch it, absorb it.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She is numb as Thread hits her four more times: a coppery smell seeps into her nose. It’s blood and ice and salt—no that’s tears.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss watches the thick, flaky snow corrode into the crimson red. She is numb, and Gale is pulling on his bondage, ripping and burning his skin.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Catnip.” His sobbing sounds distant, like he’s calling her from across the Hob.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Twice across her leather back: those don’t hurt too bad, but the one on her thigh wrecked her pants and made her bleed. The last hits her hand, held up in defence, marking the palm.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Gale is squirming and pulling and groaning. “Get, get off ‘er.” He tries for intimidating, what an idiot, but—crack—it didn’t work. Gale reacts harshly, reopening the scabby areas. Now that he’s awoken, he can feel it all again.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“You’ll kill him!” Trying to sit up, she knows she has no power, no influence. He’ll kill them both. He hits her again, and she falls, but her jacket’s layers protect her, denting for the third time. The inhabitants of 12 will forever be dented too, and many will remember this rebellious girl, who was always the first to just do something . They will remember the day they watched this happen and did nothing.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(They will remember the people who did something: Katniss, the girl in the snow, and—)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Now, whenever the snow falls, people will remember it as the day it all caught fire.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Please!” She sobs from the ground, clawing her way through the blood, and in front of Gale: she has no power, but she will take as many hits as she can for him.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He thrashes her one last time, across the same cheek, and then Gale, for a clean forty-two, one for every reaping slip. She can feel her tears deep into the snow.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She is her mother, lying there, catatonic while someone she cares about screams out in agony. She is different from her mother though, because she gets in front of him again. “Please.” Hardened tongue, she stares at him.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He hits her, nicking her ear while clawing into the side of her skull, but Katniss, through her yell, only sits back up, sliding her muddled pants though blood-soaked cobble. Dirt, grime, and gravel claw their way onto every surface, as she cements herself between a whip and a boy.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Stupid girl.” Thread snarls, running the bloodied claw of a whip through a clenched hand. He flicks his dripping crimson hands in her face, like she is a dog, like he is better than her.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Just this once, let him go, let it be a warning. We didn’t know.” She stares at the man from her knees, ripped cheek, tears blending with the blood. “We didn’t know, I swear.” Her sliced palm presses into Gale’s blood and his quiet breaths tell her he’s passing out again.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(good gale, you deserve to sleep.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Her clothes chaff her with blood and thick snowflakes but she will never look away from Romulus Thread, not even as she begs.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She’s looking death in the eyes for the boy. It’s the only thing Thread will respect her for as he whips her to death. He raises the whip, but she still doesn’t look away, if anything, she clenches her hand in puddled blood. Her lip trembles,</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>but almost telling him to, “hit me...”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She doesn’t fear him: she only fears what he’ll do to the poacher boy.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Madge arrives running. A mockingjay to light up the dark.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(—and they’ll remember Madge, the girl on fire.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Snow falls around them all, collectively. All that watched will remember this passively. It will be gossip, a whisper, just another story, but Katniss will have nightmares to crawl through, like trenches in war.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Romulus Thread will smirk in pride whenever it’s mentioned, like he achieved something here, like he’s better than whoever brought it up, because Romulus Thread whipped a barely-nineteen boy because he needed to feed his family, and he’s proud of it.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The crack will echo in Gale’s ears, and the scars will tighten when it gets cold.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(oh gale, it’s time to wake up. you can wake up because of the girl, you know. if not for her, you would’ve died, young little man.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>only nineteen.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>oh yes, happy birthday, gale.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Madge is at the door, morphine hanging from her grasp.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Just how much charity will Katniss take from this kind, kind girl.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He’s dead to the world as the sun revolves around it. Her lips are blue and chattering, going pink around the whipping scar on her cheek. She grasps Gale’s hand desperately as he lay catatonic on the heavy wooden table. Her palm burns, but they are numbed cold.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>It is a table of dead men and lost sparks. Herbs sit on the shelves to whisper the answer to every injury. Candles light up the room and reflect off his scabs, off the snow. It takes everything in her not to look.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She rubs his hand in hers, leaning over in her chair, feeling exhausted in every way.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She traces his face, with her thumb, wondering how long she’ll get to keep him before the Capitol decides to snatch him away.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Muttering inklings of apologies, over and over, sorry so sorry, she whispers how she could’ve done it differently, been there sooner, could’ve traded the turkey herself. If only she hadn’t tried to surprise him with a cake. If only he wouldn’t have gone alone. Her cheek burns with blood, her palm stings and her thigh blazes. She knows that he is suffering worse, but doesn’t know how to fix it.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>In her guilt, like she’s the one under a medicinal haze, she shifts forward and captures his lips. It’s slow and soft. It’s not something she shouldn’t be doing.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She leans back, fingers sparking as they hug his.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(oh gale, wake up.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He squeezes them.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Hey, Catnip.” He whispers. He doesn’t mention their lip contact.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Hey, Gale.” She doesn’t either.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>His back is ripped apart and compensated with snow. It’s no where near enough, and she’s watches him squirm. Her marks mean nothing to his groaning pain.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Thought you’d be gone by now.” Whispers come through heavy morphine lips.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(She used to love her scars, but she doesn’t think she can anymore.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He makes drowsy eye contact with her, “I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to stay right here and cause all kinds of trouble.” She murmurs, resting her head on her crossed arms while she runs her thumb over his hands.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>It’s dark and quiet, and nothing exists but them.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(If only.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Me, too.” His teeth shine in a smile, unnoticeably crooked. It’s the smile of the forest, the smile he’s smiled far too many times outside of it. She’s scared, and he’s asleep. She hopes he forgets the kiss. She kissed someone.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She kissed him.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She feels what she has just promised him, and she isn’t ready for it.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>It seems he has forgotten it, because nothing shifts between them. When he tries to sit up, she is by his side. She holds lightly on his shoulders, away from any markings, and it’s like he doesn’t feel her awkwardness. Her heart closes with neglect and disappointment, for something he can’t control. Morphine can cause memory loss, it happens.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>It’s something she’d wanted, after all. (So why is she disappointed?)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>There are other things to focus on, like him getting better. As she looks at the scars, she can feel herself being over taken. Her limits are breached. He sits here fine, accepting what’s happened, accepting the burdens he’ll carry under every shirt, as she corrupts over them.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>It’s all her fault. Each jagged line throws accusations in her face. The blemish on her cheek burns. Gale meets her eyes, pulling her into his arms.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Her face is in his collar, whispering, “happy birthday.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>His arm squeezes around her, and she thinks she feels a teardrop on her shoulder, slipping down her back under her shirt, her own burden to hide. She doesn’t look, pushing further into his arms.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(Primrose watches through a crack in the door, eyes wide. Rory calls her name and she jumps away.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The last thing she hears is, “I’m sorry, Catnip.” Rory drags her away. He hears it too, squeezing her hand.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss wants to tell him he has nothing to be sorry for, but she can’t get any words out, her throat is heavy. He sits on the table, and he is unsteady with hidden pain as they lean on each other.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(oh gale, oh katniss, you’re so young aren’t you? Panem has a way of reaping the youth from its young.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. birthdays and first times</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>the scars are her fault, and she knows it.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>
      <strong>year ten: addendum</strong>
    </em>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>A couple days pass, and Katniss’ residence is now at his beside. She helps Gale put a shirt on, on his forth morning: some scabs still linger and red marks blush at her. His frustration seethes through the arm holes at his incapabilities. He’s been dismissed by her mother even though Gale’s back isn’t fully healed, but her mother knows stir crazy when she’s sees it and Gale would’ve left either way.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>One arm, and then two.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The grunts that leave him make her want to cry again. His brows pinch and his ears are ruddy with embarrassment, but they manage. When he sits to put his shoes on, her cheeks puff with a decision. “I’ll be right back.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She marches to the kitchen to where Primrose and her mother sit, sorting cloths, needles, herbs. “Meet us at the Hawthorne’s.” It’s a quiet statement, so Gale doesn’t hear. Katniss knows she’s succeeded when he swears behind her.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Her mother raises a brow and Prim looks unjustly excited, but everyone knows it’s happening. Mrs. Everdeen hasn’t questioned her daughter in years, not about new buttons and certainly never about food.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Right when Gale stands, Katniss returns. She helps him with his jacket, the old leather goes over his broad shoulders smoothly. He didn’t need help with this, not really. It’s a very little effort task, but as her hands rest at his nape, neither of them mention it.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Taking his hand, she leads him out the door. His feet patter behind as she leads him to the merchants. Barely off the street of her house, she rapidly becomes aware of how people are recognizing them, or maybe just Gale.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p><em>Everyone knows.</em> Of course they do.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She leads him to the bakery, deciding when they walk in the windowed door that she <em>is</em> getting a cake, and it’s going to say “Happy Birthday”, even if his birthday was a week ago now, even if he protests.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The baker sees them. His kind eyes invite her forward. Gale waits at the door, unfamiliar with joining her while she trades. He always waited outside.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“No squirrels today, Sir,” she whispers quietly, dropping a bag of money on the counter. His kneading hands slow. “Can I have your smallest cake.” Then, in after-thought, “that can feed eight people, please?”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The man glances at Gale wearily, scanning him with pity. <em>Everyone knows.</em></p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Looking back to her, he nods kindly, asks about flavour. She doesn’t know how to respond. There are <em>flavours</em>? Her cheeks burst red as Gale walks up behind her. She goes with a neutral answer. “What flavours do you have?”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wiping his floured hands on his apron, Mr. Mellark supplies, “Chocolate, vanilla, red velvet, carrot—“</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(Greasy Sae would be proud, toothy smiles and all.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Carrot, please.” He nods, turning to grab said cake. The oddly quiet boy behind her snatches her elbow sharply.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“What are doing, Catnip?” She turns to look at him, and in the warm golden-brown room, she cans see merchants and their kids staring at them. Some are clearly talking about the whipping as they feed their children donuts. It’s a weekly treat for them.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(“The first in thirty years,” and elderly woman whispers. <em>Everyone knows</em>.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Others are talking about how they are the only ones with black hair in the bakery, because people are like that. “I am getting you a birthday cake.” Her eyes are hard as she watches bread rise in the ovens.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“How?” And she sees worry. There’s only one way in the Seam to get money that quickly. His voices is slightly angry when he says, “how do you get this money?” He’s not so tired now, is he? He needs an answer. “You didn’t sell yourse—“</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“No.” Gale looks confused, and then he shakes his head in relief.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Then <em>how</em>?”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She lies. “My bargaining has really improved after you started mining. I’ve been saving too.” Lies, lies, lies. She can’t tell him she’s been practically taking <em>charity</em>, though. Gale knows she’s lying. His eyebrows lower.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Why are you spending it on a cake?” It’s a reasonable question, and she contemplated the ethical debate herself.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Everyone’s fed. No one needs clothes. This is a gift for everyone. It’s like Lady.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“It’s not.” He’s right, after all, Lady has paid for herself. That goat’s milk is really something.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“It’s my money, that I earned on my own. I will spend it how I like.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Katniss—“</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Gale, our families have never had a cake before.” The baker returns with a circular cake, white frosting and perfect. It’s not fresh, but fresh is expensive. “Please, let us have this. Just once.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>Just once. Just once.</em>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She turns to the man. “Write ‘Happy Birthday’ on it, nothing special, please. I’d rather not spend all my my money.” She tries for a joke, but Gale tenses, causing him to wince in pain. His marks still hurt and Katniss hopes he didn’t rip a scab.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The man smiles, and makes it special anyway: with little swirls, and a flare when he dots the “i”. He smiles at her kindly.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Looking around almost scared, he releases a breath and lifts the cake to the countertop. Gale takes it, grumbling. He nods to Katniss, letting her know to meet him outside. He has not accepted what she’s done, but the cake is made, and in the Seam, when you have your cake, you better eat it too.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Mr. Mellark smiles at him as he goes, but his lips flinch when he’s see a red edge come from Gale’s collar. His eyes melt like butter, and he turns to her, glancing around once more. Katniss thinks he’s checking for his wife.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Five gold coins.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Her surprise is not hidden. Gale always taught her to never let them see it, but <em>five</em> gold coins was ridiculous. “But, Mister—“ It’s the cost of burnt bread.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Please, Katniss. You’re half the reason my son came home.” Her eyes widen even more, “even if you are with Gale, it doesn’t change the fact that he came home for you.” Her throat is clogged. She doesn’t even have it in her to tell him that she isn’t <em>with</em> anybody.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“and well, after what happened to that young man, I don’t care what my wife says. You deserve a break, you were so brave.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss leaves five gold coins—which isn’t even a quarter of her money—and a silver tip. Katniss has never left a tip before.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She’s taking off with a, “thank you.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(Charity, charity, <em>charity</em>.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>His silence is absolute on the march to his house. It’s chilly and her crossed arms don’t help. They stop in front of his house.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“My family is already here.” She whispers. He looks at her, and his eyes are heavy. She pleads with him, <em>“Try to enjoy it, Gale.”</em> She doesn’t say the words, but he hears them. With a cake in his arms, they enter the small, gray shack Gale calls home.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The atmosphere in his house has always been lively. There’s always someone doing something, or more accurately, everyone doing everything. Vick and Rory tumble as Prim watches them with sparkling eyes. Their mothers chat at the rickety table as Posy tries to force her way into the Hawthorne brawl.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>But when Gale comes in the door, all of it cripples to a silence. Rory releases Vick from his headlock: Posy stops her tears, and Hazelle stands abruptly, shocking Mrs. Everdeen.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The children burst towards Gale screaming, elated with his recovery. His grip on the cake tightens, but before he has to battle gravity over the white frosting, Katniss steps between them.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“No. Your brother hasn’t healed yet.” Posy doesn’t process her words, so Katniss has to pick her up by her ratty-collared shirt as she launches at Gale. Vick and Rory understand though, respectfully slowing. Hazelle hasn’t moved.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Gale stalks past his brothers to the table. In this small shack, the kitchen, living room and dining area are all the same. This layout is almost identical to Katniss’ house, so there are probably two small bedrooms and a half-bathroom in the back.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>When he sets the cake on the table, both of their mother’s look confused, and as he leans over the table on his knuckles, Gale murmurs, “it was Katniss’ idea, Ma. I couldn’t talk her out of it.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Katniss has wonderful ideas.” Hazelle says, bringing her fingers to brush the red marks climbing from his collar. Katniss has the urge to do the same to her cheek. With the statement, all of the children rush to see what Gale had delivered.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(Over the chaos, the mother whispers in her son’s ear, “she’s a wonderful girl, Gale.”)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss doesn’t hear it, but she does see his cheeks pink to his ears. “Alright,” he coughs, “who’s hungry?” The children all shout as he makes his way to the kitchen with the treat.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss shuffles over to the table to help the two parents get the kids situated in a non-violent seating plan. Katniss sets Posy in between Prim and Hazelle. This set up is a must with how they’re all buzzing with excitement. Looking to Gale, she sees how his crackled shoulders have lifted too.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Worries be damned, even he has his limits, and a <em>cake</em>. This is a dream for them, even the thoughtful, idiotic Gale.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss assigns her spot at the overpopulated round table. Rory is to her left, and Gale will be on her right when he gets over here. Smartly, her mother has placed Vick at the opposite side.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Katniss?” Gale asks, and she’s over there in two seconds, grabbing two plates of different colours to bring to the kids. “Wait.” He whispers, wiping his hands on a ratty dish cloth.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She turns to him, and he glances everywhere but her eyes. Putting the cloth down, he brushes his fingers over her scarred cheek. It’s fresh and red. “Thank you.” He’s talking about the cake, about the whipping, about everything.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Her eyes well up slightly, but when she’s on the verge of saying you’re welcome, Rory Hawthorne takes the punchline. “I swear if you kiss her I’m gonna puke.” With a smack on the back of the head from his mother, and a collective groan from all but oblivious Vick, Gale drops his hands quickly.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(She freezes. He wouldn’t do that, kiss her. They’re just friends.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>That’s why she kissed him, right?)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>They rush to hand out cake, and when everyone has a plate, they return to the kitchen to grab theirs. Before he walks away though, she rushes, “you’re welcome.” And when he turns to her, she does what she imagined right from when she first shot that <em>stupid</em> turkey. It’s a ‘just friends’ thing.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She goes on her toes, to his ear, where his freckles tickle her marked cheek, and she whispers, “happy birthday, Gale.” It’s breathless and quick, but before he can respond, Posy is asking for seconds.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Gale doesn’t have the heart to tell her no, never has, so he gives the small girl his. Katniss sees Hazelle glare at him lightly, but he doesn’t notice. He also doesn’t notice that his mother stopped eating her slice, preparing to give it to him later.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>When they sit at the table, Katniss beats her to it, slicing her piece in half and putting it on Gale’s plate. The both take a bite. Carrot cake tastes nothing like carrots but it’s awesome anyway.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(oh little gale, nineteen, nineteen. you’re nineteen and in love. it happens.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>This time neither of them notice how Hazelle whispers to herself, “a truly wonderful girl.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>In the next few months, their scars heal as much as they can before they print themselves white on their skin.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The Quell is announced, which she’d fretted over forever. She’d been wary about the special requirement. What would it be? It’s her last reaping, but the odds tend not to be in her favour.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The Hawthornes and the Everdeens gather around the TV together: Prim and Rory huddle closely, something Katniss overlooks in her stare at the television, but Gale sees all too well.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss leans into Gale more than she realizes, and she knows Madge is watching from her house in Victor’s Village. Snow opens the envelope and he reads it with poison.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The requirement was bullshit. She is out the door before Gale can stop her.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(Madge is the only female victor.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Every Quell was to be determined at the beginning of the first games, and now that every district has a male and female victor. The rule, conveniently, requires them to be reaped again.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(Madge is the <em>only</em> female victor.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He catches up to her, grabbing her arm. She turns to swing at him but he catches it too, like he trying to catch her, reign her in, calm her down. Gale doesn’t know how to deal with an unstable Katniss. Katniss is never unstable.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss cries on Gale. This is ridiculous she tells herself as she sees his white little scars peak out under his collar.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“I don’t think she’s coming home this time.” She sobs. He pulls her into his chest again, and there they are, in the middle of the dusty street, like they are the only people in the world.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(If only.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>His mouth wants to give her an answer, but he can’t lie to her.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He massages his thumbs into her back. Her hands skim his scar tissue as they clutch his back for purchase, to hold her up, and she cries harder.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>While she sobs, he kisses the scar on her cheek, picking up her tears, and he runs his hand down her jacket, lining the marked leather in comfortable circles. He doesn’t know what to say, but he never really does so he hopes this is enough.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>When they return to the Hawthorne’s, her tears are dried, her cheeks are puffy, and their hands are locked. Hazelle says nothing about any of these facts, and her mother doesn’t even notice—never even notices.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(She can’t collapse, but she is, and when she sees her mother she almost puked with shame.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>They still hunt, and it’s a huge risk, but they have to.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She sees a turkey squabble by tauntingly. Knocking her arrow, she lets the turkey pass with her breath. Her bow is taut, pointing at nothing, and when they return to the Hob, silence haunts them for at least a week.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Darius no longer fiddles with her braid in the Hob: he’s been gone since the whipping, since the whipping. Oh, just wait. It’s fine. She can say whipping without trembling.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(No, you can’t, you can’t.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The snow has disappeared with the snarky ginger.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>When the victors leave, Katniss is in the crowd with Gale behind her shoulder. She holds the pin in her hand, swaying back and forth, drawn to Madge. Her plan of giving it back was ruined when the tributes were carted away before the usual farewell visitation.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She holds the pin so tightly, it breaks into her scarred palm. This mockingjay had been so lucky, but now she holds it while Madge goes to her execution.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She waves goodbye to them, both of them. When Peeta waves back, Gale tries to hold back his unfair thoughts; he mostly succeeds.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Madge gets her hands on a bow. She’s a terrible shot: Katniss can tell by her form alone.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>But no one can miss a target as big as the sky.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>District 12 is shocked silent, not unlike the lightning blast that quieted the broadcast.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She was always a light sleeper, and the bustle of the district has her up in an instant. People are running. She sees the Hawthorne’s, all but Gale running with them. The window nicely frames the desperation.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Children are screaming. Gale is at her door in his mining overalls, a dusty layer covers his features in the night. He doesn’t explain; he just grabs her hand and drags her to oblivion.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Prim drags their mother similarly.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Their hands squeeze, she examines his. Thin scars from snare wires cut his skin. The coal embedded under his chewed nails makes her queasy.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(She preferred when he’d explored girls: anything was better than the mines.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>People follow him—them, to their hole in the fence. They fly under, one by one, fearful and panicked. Only so many can go at a time. Some are afraid, startled by the woods and it’s danger. They turn and run for the streets.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Her ears pick up hovercrafts, and so do Gale’s. He tries to send her under with Primrose and Mrs. Everdeen. “My mom and the kids are already on the other side!” And so she should go to. What an idiot.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She is mad, so angry, so quickly. Her eyes harden, disbelieving he could <em>fathom</em> that she’d leave him.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Grabbing his suspenders, she pulls him to her level. He stands uncomfortably awkward, bent too short, like a duck. His eyebrows shoot up, and their faces are so close he doesn’t know where to look.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She smells smoke rise from the flames on the merchants’ rooftops. Their eyes meet fiercely. Silver coins reflecting light off one another.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Her grip tightens as she screams. “I’m not gonna leave you here. I-“</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He pushes his lips on hers. The people around them take no notice: the grass shines orange and the barbed fence will be the forever witness of all the suffering of the cooking district.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>His lips are different than before, probably because they are participating this time: they are rough, and chapped, and they taste like burning coals and passion. They aren’t how she’d imagined, but she’d never let herself imagine too much. Her hands lose their grip and push against his stained, white shirt under the overalls. The thumping against her palm is strong. It’s his heart pulsing, matching with the speed of hers. When he pulls away, Katniss is frozen in time, unable to process what just occurred.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(Her eyes widen. Friends. Just friends. What happened to friends?)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“I had to do that, at least once, if we’re going to burn here.” He smirks and she stares, unresponsive. Her hair is just as frazzled as her.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She is pulled under the fence with him, just before the embers wisp the end of her braid. They bolt for the creek, and this time, she is the one dragging him by hand.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>
      <strong>year eleven: or what should’ve been</strong>
    </em>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>They sit in the pond where she’d taught him to swim. The smell, oh the smell, it’s so strong, she can taste it crawling up her tongue. The smell, oh the smell, it’s burning flesh.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Screaming echoes it’s way into the forest, climbing through every branch. The flames reflect off the waters and into the minds of every person, forever traumatized. The smell, oh the smell. It fills the inky night sky with coals of orange.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>They all start North, with no where else to go.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>When they finally escape the stench, Katniss realizes how hard she’s gripping his hand. She looks into his dark eyes, and sees how her father looked at her mother. All soft glances on her sharp edges. It makes her warm. She almost smiles.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>But then, she sees what it turned her mother into.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She rips her hand out of his so quickly, that it bruised his heart.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>How can it all be gone? The oak table must have been good kindling, the whipping post, too. The bakery bread burnt, and she wishes that stench haunted her instead of meat.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>All those people, they might as well have been kerosene.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>District 13 is a bunker. Metal walls and desolation.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Families are sorted into rooms alphabetically. Everdeen sits by Hawthorne; at first, Katniss is confused, but then, she thinks of all the people who’d burned and realized not many names were left to fill the absense.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss doesn’t know if she wants someone there, to separate her room from Gale’s. She doesn’t have time to think too hard on it before she is pulled aside by one Haymitch Abernathy. He is a man she’d never spoken to, but feels as though she knows.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He’s not drunk, but he’s not sober. People who are sober don’t stare death in the eyes like he does.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She had news to break to one Madge Undersee. He tells her this.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>It’s in that moment Katniss realizes she had let the Undersees sleep in. Bile rises in her throat. The burning stench of overcooked people was Madge’s parents.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“There is no district 12.” She whispers to her friend, holding Madge while she shakes. Katniss quivers too, in guilt.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(Don’t let herself care, remember? The mayor who used to open the door to buy her strawberries remembered, so why didn’t she?)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Everything is adding up. She is collapsing.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Guilty and sad, she longs for Gale to surround her, make her feel better, wipe her worries away, and she hates herself for it.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>That night, she goes to him, burning with guilt, but not burning like they did. That’s where the guilt arrives, with the way Madge’s blue eyes overflowed with tears.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The Hawthornes’ door is pulled open and he is shocked; Katniss grabs his hand, leading him to the nearest unpopulated location, which happened to be a broom closet at the end of the hall.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She shoves him in the dark room. She needs this, and Gale can’t understand, so she doesn’t explain, she needs to get them out of her head. Katniss needs to be able to breathe without tasting charcoaled hair and cooking skin.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(Guilty, so guilty, she’d had enough time to wake them up, but she didn’t. )</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(He understands the guilt all too well. There were so many children he could of carried, people he could’ve dragged.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Nothing changes between us?” She asks. Gale takes a step towards her, or as much of one as he can in this cramped of a room. His sweatpants brush her uncovered knees.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Catnip...” he reaches a hand for her, eyebrows picking up in concern. She can’t, no more: stop looking at her like that, please. He makes her feel guilty too—when he leans his body into hers, like if he jumped from a cliff, holding no doubt she’d save him—for hanging him on a hook.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Have they ever been just <em>friends</em>?</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She smothers the sparks in his eyes with her lips, ripping all the oxygen from his core. Running her fingers down the buttons on his white shirt, she starts to pop them open.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss doesn’t know what she’s doing but Gale does; it’s in the way he moves, the way he caresses her. Her chest tightens with shallowing breaths. He knows what he’s doing, so <em>well</em>; she’s one of the many girls of Gale Hawthorne, isn’t she?</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Her teeth grit and she pulls his hair in envy. She hates this, but not enough to get him to stop. Clothes pull from their bodies in a rush: his shirt pulls off and rests at their feet in the cramped, dark room.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He kisses past her cheeks, through the valley of her breasts and down to her underwear. She tingles in ecstasy, but also fidgets uncomfortably, because he’s just <em>so </em>practiced.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Gale’s fingers pause lightly, resting gently on the stitches of her grey underwear. He glances up at her with concerned eyes as she closes her legs in insecurity. Stop that. Stop the caring.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss hums in the affirmative. She’s <em>fine</em>: she only hates herself. She is one of the many girls and when he resumes she wants to scream for two different reasons.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(But, when his calloused thumb traces the blemish on her cheek and his lips count every freckle between his heavy breaths, tickling her ears with compliments and unneeded apologies as he slowly pushes his way inside her, she thinks, <em>maybe</em>.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He murmurs lightly in her ears, lips frantic in her flyaway hairs. She tenses, but when he kisses her nose, everything in her simmers. Then it starts to boil and burn, quintessentially. Her skin grows hot and she nips into his shoulder to hide her embarrassing squeaks. He chuckles at her lightly, whispering, “come on, Catnip.” He brings his fingers down to her lips, brushing past a little pearl that jolts her body in that perfect way.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She laughs out a moan: that’s never happened before. He does it again.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Her toes gnaw downward as her finger nails dig into Gale’s biceps. His lips rest on a dimple between her shoulder and collar, and her fingers glide into his hair on the first thrust, tightening her thighs at his hips.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Neither of them are loud people and nothing’s changed: soft pants from her lips and heavy grunts through his teeth fill the room. A pressure builds between her legs, stretching from the heels of her feet to her core, and outward through her fingers. It tingles and burns, and she’s gasping for air, overwhelmed.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Clawed fingers scrape over scarred backs. Gale’s thumb slides over that little nub between her legs again and she falls apart at the seams. Her first loud squeak leaves her as she trembles into his shoulder, linking her ankles behind his thighs. She tumbles down and flies all at once.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss hears him shutter, and thrust again, incomplete as he kisses her lips softly, before continuing. <em>Maybe</em>.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>When her fingers travel the mazy lines of torn-white and pain on his back, his pace quickens. He wraps his arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug as he comes undone.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She feels like maybe this is different than the others, for him. But only maybe.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Maybe is good. Maybe is non-committal, but promised. She can take a maybe.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>After, as they sit together—her on top of him, against his chest—they breathe quietly. His back is against the wall, and his toes brush the other. He is too tall to be comfortable, she thinks as he cuddles her to his chest. His body is warm and complete as her chin crevices in his neck.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Nothing changes?” He whispers to her quietly in the dark. His thumbs rub her hips quietly.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She pulls back to look at him for a second, and almost stutters, because he isn’t the same to her anymore. He just took her virginity (or did he accept it?): it means something, but for him, it doesn’t. He lost his years ago, after all.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She whispers resolutely, “nothing changes.” He won’t look her in the eye as he kisses her shoulder. Her hands clutch to her heart.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(oh no, little gale’s fallen in love, hasn’t he?)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Ok.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. homecomings and catnips</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>it’s a slip of the tongue, hers and his.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <strong>viii. year eleven: addendum</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>Gale sits with her at lunch, with pasty bread and Sae’s soup. He is quiet, staring at the bowl. Madge sits down right beside her, across from him. Then, surprisingly, Thom sits after that, a comfortable four. Thom still talks, a lot, and he chats with Gale, though one-sided.</p><p>She thinks, finally, after her years of watching the world, she knows why his chatter isn’t annoying. It’s because he’s doing it for others, to make them comfortable, welcomed: but, most importantly, he listens, cares when others speak. Most that talk as much as him don’t stop to listen.</p><p>Peeta Mellark is like that, a talker and a listener, but he’s in the Capitol.</p><p>Madge made her realize this fact; Katniss notices how fascinated Madge was with him. She always hated the uselessness of words too, but she stares at him like she sees value behind every syllable, intrigued with his honesty. Madge even responds to his words.</p><p>Katniss looks to Gale, noticing his little smile of recognition. They both watch as the mockingjay and the miner become infatuated with one another.</p><p>This continues, and after about a week passes, Thom sits beside Madge first. Therefore, Katniss is beside Gale. He bumps her knee, and she knows, whatever it was, it is forgiven. She bumps his knee back.</p><p>She remembers bumping his his shoulder in the hall, and with a little ache in her chest, she realizes she misses it: even if her shoulder was barely above his elbow at the time.</p><p>Peeta’s face appears on screen; Madge looks scared and concerned. She rises, and walks toward the screen, mumbling incoherently. Thom’s already standing up to hold silent and resolute beside her.</p><p>—</p><p>“She’s not romantically interested in Peeta, by the way.” Katniss tells him. Gale chokes on his water as Thom blanches. Katniss has never really directly started a conversation with him.</p><p>“It was an act. She told me all about it. It still is one. They’re actually just friends.”</p><p>“‘Just friends’ like you and Gale?” Thom questions jokingly, and Gale chokes again. It’s meant to be lighthearted: she knows it. She tried to be helpful, let him know that Peeta won’t get in the way of his clear feelings, and he has to go and point out her and Gale.</p><p>Eyes dull, she says. “Actually, yeah, Peeta and Madge are just like me and Gale.” She responds harshly. He knows what she’s alluded too, and he looks hurt. She makes eye contact with Gale and sees even more hurt.</p><p>“Actually?” Thom asks slowly. She doesn’t answer, and Gale gets up to leave. Watching his back as he goes, her stomach flips it’s guilt to simmer once again.</p><p>—</p><p>“I’m going back to Twelve.” Madge tells her as they walk through the corridors. “They’re telling me I need a team to go with me...”</p><p>She let the Undersees sleep in, and now they are ashes. At this point in life, Katniss is so overwhelmed with guilt that she would do anything to make up for it. Yet again, she has debts to be paid.</p><p>“And I was wondering if you wanted to come?” She doesn’t want to come, and she doesn’t think she could stomach it. Her answer didn’t come right away, so Madge seemingly backtracks. “Only if you want, of course. I asked Thom, too, and he agreed, and—“</p><p>She really doesn’t want to go. “Of course, I’ll be there.”</p><p>—</p><p>Two nights before they go, Gale shows up at her door. As it opens, he grabs her before she can respond, dragging her to the closet. She stumbles along as his aggressive tugging progresses.</p><p>His shoulders are tense and his eyes burn when they look at her. He shoves her in the closet, closing the door. The tirade begins.</p><p>“So were you planning on telling me? Or were you just gonna go?” He stands tall but there is a shaking in him as leans over her.</p><p>He grasps at her eyes with his and they are clouded. Her mouth hangs open with unsaid things. What is she supposed to tell him? He doesn’t know, but he’s done being held by a thread.</p><p>“Well?”</p><p>She kisses him, quickly and boldly. He startles with a yelp, but then he leans down so she can meet him comfortably. He’s done being lead on, but he’s kissing her anyway, even though he knows what she’s doing. Her arms run along his neck and her fingers tug the hem of his shirt.</p><p>He grabs her thighs and picks her up. Her back is pushed to the wall, and he fills the space between her legs. Their gravity is unyielding as Gale struggles to pull away: it leaves his breath ragged.</p><p>He has her trapped, between him and the wall. “You never answered my question.” She looks at him, through him, stormy and blind, crossing her ankles behind his hips. Their cores push together and he groans as his head falls into her shoulder.</p><p>He grins at her games and lifts his head. She’s smirking. Katniss does it again. “Catnip..” he slams her against the wall with ease, and she barks a laugh in surprise. “Answer the question.” He is harsh.</p><p>Juxtaposed to his roughness, Gale grabs her hand and holds it softly between their chests, leaning into her fully. “Please.” His eyes are vulnerable, and so is his voice.</p><p>She squeezes his hand, looking him in the the eye. Her mouth opens and closes two times before she slowly kisses him again, and this time he can’t resist her.</p><p>She pushes his shirt off his shoulders, stuttering a little as residual pain seeping into her fingers as she runs over his scars. Katniss makes him forget why he’s angry, if only for a little while.</p><p>—</p><p>Again, she sits on his legs in the aftermath, and honestly, it’s the only comfortable position in the small room. He stares past her head into the wall.</p><p>A little while never lasts. Emptiness fills him as he rubs circles into her back.</p><p>He’s so done with this, chasing her in circles. She huddles in his chest and his chin rests atop her head. How can she be in his arms and yet so far from his reach?</p><p>How does he keep falling for this, falling for her? She’s the only snare he can never figure out, can never escape, and she doesn’t even know it. The room is silent, dark.</p><p>“Come with me.” She whispers into his chest. It sounds frail and unsure. He falls into the trap again, rumbling with anger but never saying a thing.</p><p>—</p><p>Of course he goes with her, and he really isn’t surprised. After all, he’s always following her, trying to catch up. It pisses him off and he can’t stop. The hovercraft buzzes as she sits across from him.</p><p>—</p><p>District 12 is the land of dust and embers and death. The hovercraft settles, and the buzzing ceases. Madge goes takes tentative steps in the grey sand, digging her feet into what surely was someone’s something. Katniss has the urge to puke when she does the same.</p><p>Madge leads them to her home, her first one, before the games. This is the house her and Gale used to deliver strawberries to. That feels so long ago now, the days when the buildings stood on corroded sediments. Madge cries on her knees. The ashes absorb her tears as Thom falls down beside her.</p><p>Katniss can smell the burn, the rot. It’s in her throat. The ashes of the Undersees lie cold beneath her boots, and she wants to says something, anything to make up for it. Her knees begin to shake but Gale grabs her arm to keep her from collapsing.</p><p>Gale and her stand side by side, like always. No matter how angry he is with her, or she is with him, he’s always right behind her, ready to catch her. He always comes back.</p><p>(She wonders if she’ll ever be angry enough to make him truly go.)</p><p>Down the bone filled streets, Katniss sees the ashes from the bakery blow in the wind. The outline of burnt bread wisps through her eyes. More people she couldn’t save sleep beneath the rubble. Mr. Mellark, stands there, apron stained with coal, waving his kind smile. Is this what carrot cake smells like when you leave it in the oven too long? She almost chokes.</p><p>“You deserve a break.” The man once said, oh so kind. She never wants a break again, because she isn’t deserving of one.</p><p>She glances around, the Seam houses are in shambles. She can place where hers and Gale’s were. The little crack in his window, she remembers how it used to spiderweb in every direction. It’s all gone now, and now all that remains are two empty plots, filled with charred wood and broken promises.</p><p>When Madge rises, Thom holds her sanity in its pieces, ready to reassemble them. Grasping her by her forearms, Madge attempts to convince him, “I’m fine, Thomas.”</p><p>“That’s not my name.” He smiles at her, because if the wry Madge is joking, she’s going to be okay.</p><p>“I know, but what idiot spells their name ‘T-H-O-M’ when ‘T-O-M’ is perfect.” He sticks his tongue out at her. Madge laughs through a tear, wiping it on her uniform’s sleeve as he wraps an arm around her.</p><p>“Besides, lots of people have useless letters in their names.”</p><p>“Really, like who?” Thom goes white. Everyone’s watching them and Katniss suddenly finds it easy to forget where they’re standing.</p><p>“...Katniss has two ‘S’s in her name.”</p><p>“Good effort, Thomas.” Gale tries to be a good friend behind his laughter, clapping his friend on his uniform clad shoulder.</p><p>Katniss thinks, as she witnesses the people laughing around her, maybe they can rebuild.</p><p>—</p><p>They make their way towards Victor’s Village. Thom and Madge seem to be at ease, or mostly, they lean against one another with no effort. Grey stains all their uniforms as the pick up ash in their steps</p><p>When they reach their destination, the roads are empty and they all reside in a semi-circle, absorbing the cruel horror of the juxtaposition.</p><p>These buildings still stand tall, untouched, clean against the burning of the residents. It scrapes her nerves. A cat claws out from what once was Haymitch Abernathy’s residence, and as it prances it’s way over, Katniss is both excited to show her sister and ready to kick a cat to the Capitol. He hisses at her. Fucking stupid.</p><p>“How are you even alive...” She grumbles, irritated, picking Buttercup up in her (already cat-shredded) hands. Everyone sees her put him in her bag; no one says a thing, all looking the other way.</p><p>Except Gale, of course, leaning to her ear, he says one word. “Catnippp.” His smirk is arrogantly hilarious. She wants to hit him, or maybe break her bow over his dusty hair.</p><p>“Shush.” She tosses her bag over her shoulder. The ugly, ginger beast hissing endlessly.</p><p>He laughs at her with no hesitance, and they absorb into each other. She pouts her way to Madge’s door with a hissing cat in her backpack. Gale and her were ignorant to the silence as their comrades slowed around them. She sobers up instantly, pouty mask slipping from her lips.</p><p>On the porch lies a single white rose. Everyone is silent, except for the cat. It meows with no concern. Thom walks up to the rose, and snaps it in half, as their camera man—who Katniss forgot the name of— records. Thom’s shoulders are shaking. Gale stomps it on the way inside.</p><p>One strawberry house burned, while the other watched through a peephole of lies.</p><p>—</p><p>After all the tears have fallen, they all make their way towards the old creek. Katniss remembers the kids who used play in it, remembers a simpler time when she pushed Gale in. He sputtered and whined the whole way home too.</p><p>“It’s almost winter, Catnip,” he whined, ringing water from his threadbare shirt. “What the hell?”</p><p>He’s making sure she’s between the bank and him: he remembers too. Then again, everything seems better in the afterthought. Katniss misses the simplicity, but the starving and the reapings... she never wants that again.</p><p>“Madge Undersee.” Katniss rememberers how Effie Trinket filled the name with sickening caramel, like it was an honour to be reaped. Katniss remembers how the cold entered her fingertips and wrapped around her heart, and never let it go.</p><p>An avox signs kindly to Madge, and a lady named Cressida translates for him. “He wants you to sing.” Cressida tells Madge. She goes red, squeezing her hand into her fluffy skirt. It’s dirty, but it’s Madge, and Katniss is happy to see her friend wear clothes that suit her, even when it’s covered by a bulletproof vest.</p><p>“I can’t sing.” She tucks hair behind her ears, smiling nervously. The water in the creek swirls quietly as Madge taps her feet.</p><p>Thom laughs. “Sure you can.” She can’t, and Rue’s little face fills Katniss’ thoughts.</p><p>“No, actually.” She swats at him.</p><p>He laughs again, heavily with an upward inflection. It’s an odd laugh, but a good one. Thom flicks water at Madge. She attempts to cover her face but eventually, she retaliates, trying to shove him in the creek.</p><p>“I can’t sing! Go away!”</p><p>“Katniss can.” Gale offers from his spot beside her, always beside her. She doesn’t sing often so she wonders how Gale knows she can.</p><p>Thom and Madge settle their little fight immediately and observe Katniss fiddle uncomfortably under everyone’s stares.</p><p>“I’ve heard her sing to her sister.” Her eyes widen, because she never knew he was present when she sang. It must’ve been that one time Prim was sick and he came to drop off game. Their mother was still out-of-order, so Katniss had to take the medical reigns.</p><p>The avox turns to her, signing what she presumes to be. “Sing, please?” The creak is swirly and half of their clothes are wet, but still, everyone seems ready to stop and listen.</p><p>Madge looks hopeful, and it’s already known that she can’t say no. She sings, nervously at first, but Katniss gradually gains confidence.</p><p>“Are you, are you, coming to the tree?”</p><p>She sings the words slowly, softly, with Gale beside her, watching her intently. She meets his gaze and almost stutters the lyrics.</p><p>“Where they strung up a man, they say who murdered three.”</p><p>Madge is the mockingjay, but Katniss sings the song. She grabs the pin from her pocket and thumbs it as the tune of her dead father haunts her by tongue.</p><p>“Strange things did happen here, no stranger would it be.”</p><p>His eyes don’t burn her, but they are cauterized, ready to be blackened. Gale knows she’ll burn him, but he comes as close to her flame as he can.</p><p>“If we met, at mid...night in the hanging tree.”</p><p>For some odd reason, while she sings, the tree she climbed for apples, comes to mind, how she taunted Gale from the branches. She wonders how a tree could be a sturdy, beautiful thing. How it could hold you up: then, how it could be a shallow, shaky shackle that holds you back by the scruff of your neck.</p><p>He stares at her with pride and support and she sings so much louder.</p><p>—</p><p>“You have a beautiful voice.” There’s something he’s not saying, hasn’t said for the last hour. He just sits there quietly, sneaking glances at her. He tells her this on the hovercraft ride home. Buttercup lies dormant and oddly silent in her bag.</p><p>“Thank you.” He nods awkwardly. He isn’t telling her something.</p><p>—</p><p>A few days pass, and everything simmers nicely until Peeta Mellark throws logs on the flame.</p><p>“She had this piano,” Madge whispers, arms moving gently to an invisible tune. “And she would just play, and play.” Katniss remembers Madge’s mother, a kind woman, traumatized and broken by the games. “She tried to teach me, but I was a stubborn child.” Madge tilts her head forward, locks of hair falling from their bun.</p><p>“No surprise there,” Thom adds cheekily, gulping on his soul. They all wear matching grey uniforms and Katniss truly smiles. Gale knocks his knee into hers and she tilts her head at him.</p><p>The annoying, loud theme bleaches through all their ears. There he is, Peeta Mellark. Katniss watches the blond insult, demand, apologize and warn district 13 within two minutes. There is something wrong with him: the Capitol did something.</p><p>The bombs are coming. Lockdown is initiated and in a instant everyone is running for the bunkers. Gale grabs her hand quickly, leads them to their family’s. The younger children scream, and Prim knocks Rory in the back of the head before taking the horrified Vick by the hands. The brothers found a way to argue during lockdown. Before Rory can complain, Posy attaches herself to his leg. They all huddle together and rush their way through the corridors.</p><p>“<em>This is a code red alert. Please, commence lockdown.”</em></p><p>Somewhere along the line, Katniss gains Vick and loses Gale. She looks around frantically. Screams of his name over the heads of children leave her lips. “Gale!”</p><p>Then, she notices her sister is missing too, and she doesn’t have time to process that she noticed Gale was gone before Primrose. They are both gone.</p><p>The two families make it to the bunker with two minutes and thirty seconds left on the countdown. The first thing Katniss does is turn around.</p><p>“Gale!” She starts for the exit, blinded by flaring red lights. Her body gets jolted when someone grabs her arm. A man she doesn’t recognize is telling her she can’t go back, but she tries anyway. She rips from his grasp and runs out the door.</p><p>“<em>Doors close in two minutes.”</em></p><p>“Prim! Gale!” She sobs. Scaling her way up the stairs, a rumble shakes her feet and she knocks into the rail. As she rises, she hears a shriek and Katniss is filled with relief. She can hear them, two flights of stairs up.</p><p>“<em>Door closes in one minute.”</em></p><p>Gale is right behind Prim as they whip around the corner of stairs. A cat is held in the blonde’s arms. Katniss would react to this stupidity, but they have to run. She turns and bursts down the steps.</p><p>“Hold the door!”</p><p>“<em>Door closes in thirty seconds.”</em></p><p>One more flight to go.</p><p>“<em>10, 9, 8...”</em></p><p>“Hold the door!” They are right behind her, and she’s barely going to make it.</p><p><em>“7, 6, 5, 4...”</em> She gets through the door with about a foot on each side. Prim squeezes in after her with a hissing cat in her arms.</p><p>She looks to Gale. “<em>3, 2...”</em> He’s not going to make it.</p><p>In the last second, he bursts through the crack and she meets him halfway, trembling with a hug. Her nose presses into his collar as screams leave her, because, once again, he has risked his life. Again, again, again.</p><p>“I’m okay, Catnip.” He whispers and she pulls away reluctantly, turning to her sister.</p><p>She grabs Prim, hugging her roughly. “I can’t believe you went back for that stupid cat!” Gale stands idle to the side while she reprimands her sister, whose tears make her blue eyes look like the sea. Katniss has never seen the sea.</p><p>“I couldn’t just leave him!” Katniss squeezes her shoulder harder.</p><p>“I know.” A rumble shakes the ground, and she almost tumbles, but Gale is there to hold both Everdeen’s steady.</p><p>They rush to the rest of the people. The Hawthornes and the Everdeens gather and huddle. With a flashlight, Katniss taunts Buttercup, and she finds sweet enjoyment in it, and as do the rest of the occupants. They’re all desperate for distraction when the next rumble comes.</p><p>In the corner of her eye, Katniss sees Thom comforting Madge, and smiles. Her friend found something real, after how forced it sounded with Peeta, Katniss releases a relieved breath.</p><p>Bunk beds litter the area and all are filled. Some time passes as people lose interest in Buttercup, nodding their heads into a slumber.</p><p>As she sits on the edge of a thin mattress, Gale rests behind her, hips to her back, clearly exhausted but coherent enough to half-listen to Posy tell him about her adventures. On her right, Katniss watches Posy move hold her brother’s face softly as the boy lulls awake and asleep then awake.</p><p>A couple bunks down a man snores like a monster. Katniss pretends not to see what happened when a child runs up to him with a pillow, startling him awake with a smack. Chuckles fill the chilly bunker before another rumble hits a dust trickles from the roof. Laughter turns into panicked murmurs as Katniss frantically drags her eyes to Gale, hoping the quake didn’t wake him. Posy pays no mind.</p><p>Katniss feels a rumbling shutter again, joined by more startled shouts and yells as dust falls to the ground. There is a crack in the roof just above the child, Katniss realizes. Posy squeaks as Katniss pulls her into her arms, suddenly worried that the roof will cave in and crush the child. Irrational and unlikely, but not impossible.</p><p>“Katni...” the child whisper, clearly fatigued, everything catching up to her in the five seconds of resting on the elder girl’s shoulder. “I want cake.” Katniss almost laughs out loud, and Gale groans.</p><p>“Says tha... almost ever... night since your present. Officially her favourite food...” Katniss smirks at his half sentences, hugging the sleeping child in her lap.</p><p>“Sleepy, Mr. Hawthorne?” Even through his heavy mind, he smirks.</p><p>“You know it Mrs. Ha—Catnip.” His eyes surge open to stare at her. He’s awake now, and fully at that, but Katniss looks to Posy, pretending that little slip didn’t happen. A sigh leaves him, clearly relieved, and she feels him drifting away again.</p><p>She rocks herself slowly as she holds the small girl, whispering songs in her ear. Don’t think about. Easy. She would never take his name anyway. Katniss Hawthorne: if anything it’d be Gale Everdeen. Actually, it wouldn’t be either. Katniss sets her brows low in thought. She feels Gale pull on her shirt from behind with tired fingers.</p><p>“Lay down...” He grumbles, exhausted. She looks around urgently and he laughs, “yeah, I was talking to you. Lay down.” She does, and instantly, it’s clear that the bed is nowhere near large enough, but somehow they fit Posy in between them.</p><p>He reaches across his little sister and rests his hand on her side, and Katniss prays to whatever god she believes in, that this is what friends do.</p><p>(you don’t believe in any gods, do you, katniss hawthorne?)</p><p>—</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. dancing through promises</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>he’s fine, and he’s asking questions.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>
      <strong>ix. year eleven: addendum </strong>
    </em>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Madge has a requirement: save Peeta, and all other Victors. Then, she would be the Mockingjay.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(Oh, and the cat gets to stay.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Gale volunteers to save him, with the training they’d been receiving he’d be more than qualified. She only finds out after he leaves.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She’s mad, and hurt that he left, without saying a thing. Especially since he was so angry with her for <em>allegedly</em> doing the same thing. This time though, she has a feeling he wasn’t ever planning on inviting her.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Though, now it explains his midnight visit, showing up at her door, dragging her to their closet. They always look for each other when they’re planning on leaving.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>It was good, so good, but now as she stands in front of his door, with Hazelle between her and the room, she wants to go back to that moment, and hold onto him tighter.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“He didn’t tell you?” His mother questions. She is crumbling as Hazelle asks, and little Vick mumbles from behind his tired mother.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“He didn’t tell me either, Catnip!” The moniker makes her eyes widen, and she laughs a bit as she absorbs the child into a hug: his head rests against her stomach, and he has raven locks that remind her of Gale.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“You better not be calling me that, too.” She whispers solemnly, ruffling his hair. Vick giggles through gappy teeth.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“He picked it up from Gale. He talks about you a lot, you know.” Katniss looks at Hazelle, halting her hand’s scalp massage. The boy twitches his head: keep going. The mother smiles knowingly at Katniss. “You two are quite entertaining.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“It’s not like that.” With the words, comes a “<em>bullshit!”</em> from Rory, causing her to remember Gale’s not here. Vick jumps away at the swear, tongue ready to tattle. She hardly notices though.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Gale’s on a hovercraft, saving lives. Her burning anger returns and she clenches her now free hands. Looking over the short boy—well, shorter than her—she grits through her teeth. “Thanks for letting me know where he was. It was more than he could manage.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“He just didn’t want you to worry.” She murmured, resting a slender hand on Vick’s grey clad shoulder.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“That worked wonders.” Her voice is void. Katniss turns away. Then, she slows, deciding not to let Gale’s choices ruin her experiences with his family. “Oh, can you tell Rory to leave it be? Or I’ll be sending Prim over.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(There’s a little gasp from the room, and Katniss knows she is victorious.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Her anger leaks to Madge, like she’s subconsciously blaming her for Gale’s choice. She glares daggers at her but the blonde decides not to notice.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Then, Katniss realizes there are two absences. The table is silent. Thom is gone, too.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Is Thom—“ Katniss starts with, sitting down in her scratchy, grey jumper.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Yes.” And they make eye contact. Her eyes are puffy and red. That’s the moment Katniss gets over herself. The metal table between them feels so much colder than the heavy oak ever did.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Madge leads them to watch from the command room, and Katniss can see the camera on Gale. His eyes widen, startled; he’s afraid. She can tell.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Finnick Odair talks of his abuse to distract the eyes of the Capitol. Beetee, a genius without question, has hacked Capitol broadcasts. She listens the man of District 4 with a heavy stomach—bought and sold, for sex, at fourteen. Katniss is unable to fathom that torture.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The lights go dark on the plane as they enter the Capitol, and she holds her breath. Madge watches Thom similarly. The room is silent as they wait to see the response, but the soldiers remain undetected. Relief floods her and the craft flies deeper into hell.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She made a promise to herself—to never need someone else again, but it’s too late—if he doesn’t come home, she doesn’t either.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Yours is the tall one, right?” She looks over her shoulder to a disheveled Haymitch, obviously far too many days estranged from his last drink.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>With crossed arms, she nods and her tenseness is clear. “He’s my friend.” She states, and goes back to watching the screen, reprimanding herself for missing a single second.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“I remember you two, from the Hob.” He says, aware of her silence. He looks at her calmly. “You were the hunters?” She barely notions that she hears him. He smirks, “I know you’re worried about your boyfriend, Sweetheart, but it’s rude to ignore people.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She looks at him again, and has an urge to defend herself, “He isn’t my boyfriend.” She clarifies calmly.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Right, that’s why you’re fucking him.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Now, she responds. “How did you know—“</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“I didn’t, but thanks.” She scowls, but turns back to the screen. They are lowering themselves into the building, and her anxiety spikes.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Everything passes so quickly, and Haymitch is still right there, but she doesn’t care.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Then, the broadcast is shut down. Madge is on the mic, doing her best. “President Snow? President Snow? Can you hear me; it’s Madge? President snow?”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He hears her and responds; Katniss can see Madge’s struggle to continue talking, but on she goes. One thing after the other, Peeta, the games, the pregnancy, on and on; it seems like she’s succeeding. It ends with this.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“I convinced you of my love for him, didn’t I?”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Ms. Undersee, it’s the things we love most that destroy us. Don’t you think I know where your friends are?” He looks off camera, “cut the broadcast.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Static fills the screens, all of them, and suddenly, she can’t see Gale. She feels panic rise and she’s shaking. Her body automatically tries to find him, but of course, he’s absent.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Madge attaches onto Haymitch, whispering “Thom.” Over and over again. Haymitch holds her quietly.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss trembles, but she has no one. The one person Katniss always falls into is the reason she needs to fall, and he’s no where in sight.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Her and Madge sit silently, side by side. Finnick is at their feet, thumbing a picture of Annie Cresta quietly.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss realizes she has nothing of Gale. Nothing to hold, to grasp on to. If he doesn’t come back, she’ll just be stuck with those final bare moments, wishing she’d said more.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Haymitch pokes his head in the door, “they’re back.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>It’s quick, and he’s gone.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He’s fine. She races down the hall, just behind Madge. He’s fine, but she’s still attaching onto his neck. She’s still holding onto him like he has returned from the grave.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“I’m fine.” He’s <em>fine.</em></p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“I know.” She isn’t though, so please hold her.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>After the embrace, she screams profanities at him for hours. They are in the Everdeen residence: Prim and her mother escape to the Hawthorne’s quarters, leaving a battlefield in the dark.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“How could you just leave?” She sobs for the millionth time. Her lungs have cried raw but she’s barely started. “You didn’t even tell me!” He won’t react, and it pisses her off. This continues for an hour. The room is cold and dark, and she’s tired. She wants him to give her a reaction, any reaction so badly, so she says something she knows isn’t true.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“You-you just have sex with me and leave, is that all I’m worth?” Gale has barely spoken, but this time, his eyes flare.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p><em>Finally</em>.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Are you kidding me?” Her voice doesn’t respond. The accusation was hypocritical at best and stupid at worst. With tightening eyebrows, his anger simmers.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Why didn’t you tell me?” She rolls back to the her original question. Now that he’s talking, maybe he’ll answer.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“I did it for <em>you!”</em> He throws his hands around the small dark room. “You’ve been so worried about Madge, about Peeta even! You used to even like him.” His eyes are shallow, insecure and convinced. After two hours of digging, she broke his dam everything is flooding out.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“What!” She seethes, “that’s not true at all. I owed him a debt, Gale.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Yeah! Well, I helped you feed your family for years. He helped you once! Where’s my debt?” His voice is cracking and he’s still releasing pressure. They’re at that point in arguing where the things said aren’t even relevant anymore, just rinsed, repeated and long overdue. Just a volcano of spewing lava, cruel and selfish, but that doesn’t stop the regret. Gale’s jaw slackens at his words as his posture slouches in shame.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“You’re right, but that doesn’t make what he did for me mean any less.” Actually answering an accusation this time, she hugs herself. What Gale’s done for her means so much to her. She doesn’t know how to tell him that. She panics, “Besides we both would’ve starved, so your <em>debt</em> is payed.” A quiver enters the statement.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He scoffs, “Sure.” Gale’s closing off again, and soon she won’t get an answer out of him at all.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Her hands clench, and she keeps saying stupid things. “I didn’t ask for you to care, to follow me around all the time.” His eyes flinch, recoiling.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He better stay with her. “We’re friends, Katniss. That’s what friends do.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“I didn’t ask to be your friend.” He goes quiet, and instantly, her throat closes. His grey eyes stare at her and he settles on a statement that has no right to break her heart.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“I didn’t ask to be yours either. I didn’t ask for you to fuck with my snare.” He takes a large step away from her. “Do you know how much game we lost because you couldn’t figure out a <em>basic</em> trap?” Her breathing is catching but he still isn’t done. “I didn’t ask to care about a temperamental, emotionless girl who keeps changing her mind.” It’s her turn to recoil. He’s out the door before she can respond.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She has a choice. Follow him or don’t. A magnet pulls her feet, but she’s tied to cement.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Gale, wait!” She pokes her head out the door and he halts with hunched shoulders. His head turns. Now, it seems, she’s the one who doesn’t know what to say. Her mouth opens and closes. His eyes roll.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He stalks away, and his steps echo in the quiet corridor. Katniss runs up behind him, throwing her arms around his centre. His back is to her chest and he’s trembling slightly. The tendrils of stress resonate between them, accusations and apologies battle one another.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“I’m sorry.” Good choice.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He sighs quietly, and his body is already forgiving her. It’s the middle of the night and they’re standing in an empty hall. “I was just... so worried, Gale.” Her mouth kisses his back: her lips barely brush his scars.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>His mind goes to the one question he should never ask. “Why did you kiss me? That first time I mean, after the—the whipping.” His scars burn with traumas.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(still can’t say it, can you?)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He turns to her as she loosens her hold, and Gale brings his hand up to stroke her cheek.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“I didn’t think you’d remembered that...” Katniss whispers, closing in on herself. Her cheek burns with the memory, but his light fingers soothe her. Her eyes focus over his shoulders.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“I’d have have to be dead to forget that,” he shifts, looking away. “And maybe not even then.” Gale murmurs as he holds her. Her nose pushes into his shoulder as he breathes her in.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She says it quickly, forcing herself before she could back out. “I wasn’t just using you.” Her voice is a whisper, muffled by his scratchy shirt. Gale startles, crinkled eyes widening. “My guilt was an instigator, but I would’ve gone to someone else, if I’d just wanted something physical: I came to you. You’re my best...something.” She pauses, refusing to look him in the eye. “I’m just not ready for it to be something.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“It doesn’t need to be,” he says, resolutely. “At least I know where you stand now, right?” As her hands tighten on his shoulder, she realizes they’re fine, like always.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“I’m sorry for changing my mind so much.” The darkness adds a lot of confidence. She kisses his collar bone.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“It’s fine.” His voice answers quietly. It’s really not. He’s so over it, but nowhere near through with it.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“But then, where do you stand?” She exhales, leaning fully against him.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Hugging his arms around her hips, he whispers softly, “you don’t want to know where I stand, Catnip.” Yes, she does.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>In the morning, Katniss is given bad news. She is still yawning through breakfast when she notices Madge is not with them. Thom sits down and looks as though he hasn’t been sleeping.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Peeta attacked Madge last night.” He mumbles, staring the table hoping to break it in half.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Is she okay?” Katniss puts her bowl down, and all of her exhaustion leaves her.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“I hope so. They won’t let me see her. I’m not <em>family</em>.” His finger quotes leave him steaming.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Madge has no family left.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“It’s a dance between friends.” He whispers in her ear.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Clearly.” She laughs and he smirks.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He pulls her in one direction and then the other, throws in a spin or two. She’s laughing and having fun and his arms are around her. There is no definitive beat to the music, but the violin is fast, and maybe it’s resonating to all their hearts.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>After watching the “I do”s Katniss thought to herself, how odd it was that Finnick Odair, the sex symbol of Panem, was getting married to one person. The one from the picture: Annie Cresta is beautiful and happy.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Looking to Gale, she decides that they’re going to get pictures, one day.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She sees Prim dancing with Rory, adorably, all small steps and staring at toes. Madge is sitting with Thom off to the side. She was bruised along her neck, but she is still supporting her friends’ wedding. Katniss wishes she could be anything like her.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Gale spins her and she loses focus.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She catches sight of his nails, still chewed, but not a sign of black dust. She smiles, full of teeth, freckles and mirth. He doesn’t work in the mines anymore, but they’re still underground. The thought makes her laugh in tune with the music.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Deciding to let herself fall into his spins, she dances hard. Finding rhythm is not hard for them, they’ve been doing it for years.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Her hair is down, twirling after her in his exuberant spinning. It’s a good thing he’s a natural and can lead so well, because she’s not the best, not even good, but it’s fun. Their eyes are close. Specks of green reside in his that she never noticed, but it’s not what startled her. His eyes look at her the way Thom looks at Madge, and she know her eyes show how Madge looks at Thom. She rests her head on his collar bone: he rests his atop hers. It’s fine, for tonight.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He’s wearing the same dress shirt as that first night a weeks ago. It must be his only presentable one. She still remembers undoing the buttons.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>There’s nothing wrong with the shirt; it’s just every time the fabric makes contact with her skin, she shivers, and even worse, he notices. His grin breaks his cheek. They continue to move as the song comes to an end.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He releases her, stepping back. “I think you have another customer.” He murmurs jokingly: Prim is behind her, hands clutched behind her back nervously as he slips away.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>They dance. Her golden hair swirls beautifully and her ducktail sticks out, but she does it with such a charm that it’s endearing. She looks in her sister’s blue eyes, and they are much harder than she remembers them, but just as beautiful.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Let it happen, Katniss. There are no mines here.” Primrose is leading the dance hilariously, but they continue. Chatting and dragging each other, they pretend Primrose never said anything. When the song ends, the blonde goes back to her own little Hawthorne.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss is left standing, alone as people partner up around her. She goes to Madge, who stands off to the side. They do not talk, they just rest next to each other.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Thom does. He offers Madge a dance. She excepts and he smiles at Katniss, mischievously, knowingly. They dance beautifully, accepting each other whole.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She looks for Gale, mind always straying to him. Her eyes catch him getting some water. The back of his neck sweaty, and Katniss considers asking for another dance. After all, these beautiful lights shouldn’t be ignored.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Then, she witnesses blonde, Marie with the hair. Flirting and teasing her way up his arm, and Gale doesn’t stop her. She giggles, making Katniss scowl at the disappointment bubbling under her skin. Forcing herself to look away, Katniss argues with the urge to puke, and she her eyes desperately look for anything to stray her thoughts.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Her eyes find Madge and Thom, being too happy prancing around to make her feel better.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Gale and her are friends, with fun and distracting activities during pain filled times, which means if Gale wants to be with someone else, it’s fine. It’s not like Katniss is the most appealing girl he could be with. It’s fine.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She’s fine. Her eyes prick with tears.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She can’t help but look back, they’re still talking. Of course they are, but he’s backing off. Marie looks angry, mutters a word that looks like “bitch”, and makes eye contact with Katniss. The sneer takes all the beauty out of her face. Katniss sees Gale raise his shoulders, and Marie crouches in on herself, looking startled. She glances at Katniss again.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss flits her gaze quickly, crossing her arms with a chill that isn’t excusable: there’s no breeze in a bunker. Grasping her elbows roughly, Katniss tries to focus on the violin playing a beautiful hymn. The highs and lows drum her fingers. Her thumb plays with the pin on her chest. The dress feels too tight on her now. Her hair is too frizzy to be pretty: she needs it in a braid.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>There’s a tap on her shoulders, and she lazily turns to see who it is. Gale stands, hand extended, “Dance between friends?” He doesn’t know she saw him with Marie, but she nods. He makes her fly.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>It’s a dance between friends, but she doesn’t want to let go.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. learning to live</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>she learns to live, and she tries laughing.</p><p>Oh, but someone always burns.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>
      <strong>x. year twelve: or what should’ve been.</strong>
    </em>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The year she would’ve graduated is the worst year of her life, but the best year for Panem. It’s always like that in war, isn’t it?</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(Even if you’ve won, someone didn’t come home.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She and Gale had continued their training, and the next thing she knew, they were on their way to the Capitol, on a personal mission to eliminate Coriolanus Snow.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Many people die, many she’d hardly gotten to know, but they could’ve been wonderful people—good friends, maybe. The Capitol streets are desolate and distructive: there’s a bomb behind every corner. She’s got twenty arrows and her bow is specially designed by Beetee. Gale—who is amazing with the crossbow—holds one roughly in his calloused, scarred hands.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>They walk in the centre of Panem, side by side. He’s there for her, and she’s there for Peeta and her debt to him. For Peeta, for Madge, for the thousands of children murdered for the Capitol’s eyes. It’s not really fair.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Thom is there too, medium-height, strong and holding Peeta by the cuffs. Madge walks beside them as the others—with too many names to remember—tread lightly around. A Leeg missing from their group.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Then, Boggs dies, and the Capitol—through poor Peeta—murders Mitchell. Then, there are no Leegs, Jacksons, Homes, or Castors.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Then, there are no more Finnick Odairs.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>So many died, so, so many. Katniss fe els a weight on her shoulders because she only cries for Finnick, and not the others. Isn’t that horrible? He has a wife back home, one that’s waiting patiently.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(Even if you win the war, someone doesn’t come home.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The three whispered words of Madge will never escape Katniss. “<em>Nightlock</em>,” will be the mantra of her soul.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>There are parachutes falling from the sky. They beep monotonously and Katniss just knows. <em>Beep beep beep.</em></p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The children reach up their arms.The bomb goes off. Small, so small, the dead are. Her mother—she’s there, prepared to save lives, any lives. There is another, final <em>beep</em>. And then everyone is dead. Everyone, it seems, except Katniss.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(Sometimes, no one but you comes home.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>It burns Katniss’ hair, and it burns Katniss’ mother. Her world falls apart, all at once.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Her body aches, weight climbs through every tendon. She lays in bed alone as she replays the bombing in her head. Could it have been prevented?</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Her hair is a pound lighter and her skin is peeled pink as she lays there, useless and shackled by a baby blue hospital gown. All she does is watch while everyone else burns, always. <em>(“Nightlock.”)</em></p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(Her mother’s death should leave a bigger hole than this, than a sliver of absence, shouldn’t it? When her father died, Katniss could barely breathe.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>But now, she just lays there, staring at the divots in roof. She counts them, losing track but starting again. It’s monotonous.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Primrose Everdeen delicately presses a balm into her sisters burns, some on her face, most on her arms. “Prim?” The older sister looks at her with empty eyes. (Being an orphan was hard.) Her hands clean the burns, wrap them.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“What, Katniss?” Primrose quivers and shakes, applying alcohol. She flinches when her sister does.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss can’t retrieve any words. She planned and scripted this whole exchange and yet, she can’t find her cue.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Mom’s dead.” Blunt and forceful, as Katniss always is, but it seems, at the moment, it’s what Primrose needed to hear. Her insides melt and everything blurs into a vertigo. The blonde backs away, knocking her tray of medical utensils to the floor as her knees hit a spare, white bed. She lies down numbly, on the parallel bed in their room, facing the wall, almost unresponsive.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Dead.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>There is a knock on their door. Katniss glances at her sister, knowing that, even burned, she’s going to have to open the door. Rising from her sheets, she stiffly limps to the door. When she swings it open, Gale stands there, staring at the floor. Relief wells in her so abruptly, she doesn’t account for her burns before she completely leans into him.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He stops her, catching her by the elbows. She tries meet Gale’s eyes: Katniss is confused and watery, melting in her socks. Her braid is destroyed, useless, and far shorter than normal. His gaze won’t leave the ground. Gale.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“I think it was mine.” Cracks and squeaks that haven’t been there since he was fourteen fill his voice.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She smells burnt hair, tastes charcoaled bloody fingernails, and she almost throws up.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(Sometimes, those who come home, come home differently.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She misses her mother’s empty smiles like one misses breathing through your nose when you’re sick. You never look for it, never want it, but all you can think about is the times when you had it.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss saw an opportunity for her and her mother to fix their relationship: her mom had healing hands, but now she’s gone, into the ground to join the herbs she once had to heal.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss always thought being an orphan would bring great grief and desolation, but she feels no different, no loss of trust, of faith, of support. She feels the loss of love, though; she loved her mother, even if, for years, it felt like her mother didn’t love her.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>In truth, Katniss had been alone at eleven. The mines blew up, crushing her father’s body, destroying her mother’s sanity. The grey-eyed child’s faith stood no chance in the collateral.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>It’s taken years, but that faith had been gradually replenished by the hands of once coal-destined shoulders. They aren’t destined for coal anymore, though: now burning those they touch to ashes, or maybe they always did. Now, his shoulders are scarred and red and angry, and god, she wants to be angry.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She asks his heavy shoulders one question—as he stands in the doorway—one filled with faith. Please, don’t destroy it. Hold it up, be Atlas, be Samson, be every story she’s ever heard, and at this point, just be Gale. Hold her up, <em>please</em>.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(oh gale. what have you done?)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Did you know?”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“I didn’t...I can’t.” So many cracks, too many squeaks. “I didn’t think they’d use it, not like that. Katniss, please.” His eyes, she can’t look at them: too grey, too much kerosine. His hair is dishevelled, dirty and ash-filled, just like when they visited home.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“It was really yours?” The lump in her throats pulses when she spoke, and if the door wasn’t attached by its hinges, she was sure the weight of her body would’ve broken it.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“I don’t know, Catnip. I’m sorry, I didn’t know this would happen. <em>I’m sorry</em>.” His hands ache to touch her: she can see it. He’s falling and praying she’ll grab him before he skims the cracked rocks of the cliff he’s jumped off. “I didn’t know.” He’s crying, or just about. The water is waiting for his blink, and then he blinks, and now they tumble, but she just <em>stares</em>.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She closes the door on desperate eyes, praying hands, and as she hears the click of the close, Katniss falls to her knees, completely resting her body against the door.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(Now, he’s just the man in the hanging tree, waiting for an answer as he sways in the wind. He reaches for the apple, but she twists the branch, pulling it out of reach.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>They both return to 12, and they never talk, but somehow they always see each other. In the Hob is manageable, but when she sees him in the woods she runs, runs so hard her scabs open.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>His eye follow her everywhere she goes: she can always feel them, but when she looks his way, his back is always turned.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss and Primrose run an apothecary. Well, Katniss cleans it, and brings herbs from the woods, but Primrose labels everything, helps everyone. An elderly man came into the red-bricked, little building with a cough and left with a smile.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The blonde does a wonderful job.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss sweeps the floors and smiles at her sister.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>One day, picking up dust into her pan, she realizes she doesn’t need to hunt. Katniss doesn’t need to do anything.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She isn’t needed, not by her sister, not by anyone; she can live for herself.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(you don’t know how to do that, do you?)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She still brings Madge strawberries, but now, refuses to take the money. She no longer needs it; everyone is fine, but Madge still offers it, every time.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She brings Madge strawberries because Madge is her friend. Nothing more, nothing less.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“So stop...” Katniss pushes the bag of coins towards Madge, and Madge pushes back with laughter.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p><em>Laughter</em>. How is she so okay?</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Thom pokes his around the corner, asking Katniss if she’d like to stay for dinner. With a tight smile, she refuses, and she’s unsure as to why. Madge raises a concerned brow, but says nothing.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss walks home, with no game bag, no strawberries and no sack of money. Her hands are free.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The Hawthornes are not her concern. Hazelle cleans the Victors’ houses for good pay. Rory works odd jobs, mostly with Prim, and Gale...he does whatever he does: she never notices. It’s not her job to worry like she does for them.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>It doesn’t matter though. She still smiles a little when she notices Posy has fat on her cheeks: Prim has weight on her hips. Both the Hawthorne boys will be taller than Gale, or at least Rory will be, she can already see it. Everyone is breathing and eating and living life.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(catch up, katniss.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Her clothes stop fitting gradually, and when Primrose knocks on her door, Katniss is in near tears. “Katniss, are you ready to go?” She forgot she was still a teenager.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>As the door opens, the sisters meet eyes, sharing matching braids. Katniss turns to her reflection, murmuring, “I have <em>boobs</em>.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>They laugh—laugh—and they go to the market and get some new—new—clothes. Dancing through the Hob, Primrose picks at dress and Katniss looks at some jeans. Prim finds her sister a pretty flannel, black, blue and green. It’s Katniss’ size, but she doesn’t buy it. The blonde buys it for her, along with the jeans.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(it’s hard to live when all you know is survive, but you’re learning and you’re trying and your parents would be proud.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss sees a pair of gloves on the counter and stutters in her fun, hugging her new shirt to her chest. Prim bumps into her, now equal in height and giggles ignorantly, before moving around Katniss to a pretty blue scarf.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The dark-haired girl, traces her finger along the gloves. They’re a different brand, a different colour and a different material but they remind her of the man who murdered her mother, because she thinks about him every day.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(Maybe Madge isn’t okay. Laughing doesn’t make it okay, but it makes it better.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Madge and Thom live together, in her big house in Victor’s Village. He fills the empty walls with his words, leaving just enough room for Madge.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss eats with them some days. Eventually she started saying yes, because Thom never stopped asking.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The first time Thom had a strawberry, his face lit up like Madge’s; the blonde was excited he liked them so much, until he started stealing hers.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Peeta is friends with them, too. After a lot of therapy, and even more self-evaluation, he’s been cleared as sane. He is kind like he used to be, and they all share lunch sometimes. When Katniss looks at Peeta, she finally feels her debt is payed. They talk, very little, but they do.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The group also takes walks through the district, all together. One time, while Madge and Thom hold hands, they leave Katniss and Peeta ambling behind. They make their way through the Hob. People bustle around them in a disarray.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(He sells his pelts from hunting: she notices, of course she does.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss sees Gale instantly, haggling in the corner and feels a whisper of herself next to him when he was younger and shorter, and so was she. His eyes glance to her the moment she comes in the door, and the grey in them swirl like storm clouds heavy with rain, weighed down and bursting. His gaze flits away and it never happened.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Peeta Mellark asks her on a date, out of nowhere.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>(“He’s had a huge crush on you forever.” He whispers through snarky joking teeth, teeth clenched too roughly to be fully joking.</em>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>“He has not!”)</em>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She can’t believe herself: she always knew Peeta did. Especially when she’d traded with him in the bakery. Gale even noticed, but he only mentioned it once he’d thought the baker boy wouldn’t ever set foot in the ashes of 12 again. He wanted to see her reaction, curiously, not sadistically, and when Peeta went to the games, Gale felt all his risks were mitigated.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Gale’s eyes meet hers, locking on them, and she sees his fingers tense on the beaver pelt in his hands when he looks at Peeta. His eyes drift from the blond to her, and anger melts into pain and regret and “I’m sorry.” A couple passes through their stare, breaking her trance.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Peeta leans forward, kindly smiling, and picks up her hand. She doesn’t rip her hand away, like she did almost two years ago with Gale. She squeezes his hand, because Gale’s eyes darted to their fingers the moment they made contact with hers. The tall boy shakes his head softly, blinking rapidly as he shrugs his shoulders, as though to rid himself of baggage.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He leaves, pelts thrown over his back, proud with forced spring in his stride. She can still see white marks climb out of his shirt, and she always will.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Peeta whispers to her sweetly, “Katniss?” Her focus shifts back to the baker, and a rush of panic sets in. She had been asked out before, but not by someone she knew, someone she could hurt.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss considers agreeing, which shocks her. She never even let herself entertain the idea with Gale. Peeta’s eyes are blue and vulnerable: ready to be shut down, unafraid of failure, of rejection. It’s so blaringly opposite of Gale’s closed off, no-risk mannerisms.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Gale never risks anything until it’s too late: honestly, the gall of that boy, waiting until they almost burned to death before kissing her. Her heart warms at the thought. Technically, she waited until he was on his probable deathbed before she kissed him too.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The stillness of Sae shows that she’s listening, and the stillness of Sae’s countertop holds whispers of who she was supposed to be, who she wanted to be. Stand tall, need no one, hold your own.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She was never going to have children, and she still doesn’t think they’re in her plans, but without the games, Katniss realizes Gale was right.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He never told her she’d grow out of it, unlike other people with their forced notion that women are meant to bare children. He’d only suggested that—if the games didn’t exist—maybe it’d be different.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She sees her mother, sees her burning, sees the burn in Gale’s eyes.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Was it his fault? Why couldn’t Gale just leave her mind alone? Why is she taking so long to answer? People rush in and out the Hob: it’s a respectable market now, Katniss almost laughs at the thought. Oh, right, Peeta.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“I’d love to go on a date with you.” It’s a lie. She’d love to run away from grey-eyed boys. It’s what she’s good at.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She remembers a time when she questioned how angry she’d have to be for Gale to leave her side. She feels she has an answer: she dusts the shelves of the apothecary, her heart pulsing as she thinks of him, <em>again</em>. Go away.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(No.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Their date lasts an hour, and they only go out once. He takes her to a nice, tiny donut shop, just built. Peeta loves the place: it reminds him of the bakery, he tells her.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She watches the door like a hawk, waiting for someone to walk through it. His tone is hollow and he knows the answer to his question. “Are you waiting on someone?” She always is, and he’s always known that.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Peeta remembers when she’d walk the halls of school, in her blue t-shirts and oversized, ripped jeans. She’d be on the tips of her toes, searching over every head for one—overlooking Peeta—and he remembers how she’d stare at him from across the lunchroom, how he’d be just out the door as she swindled Peeta into a trade. He always gave in, because she talked to him, paid attention to him, and honestly, it was the best part of Peeta’s days.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Of course, she’d be the one to catch Gale Hawthorne’s attention, or maybe not ‘catch’ or even ‘attention’. Many girls snagged his attention, but his heart? She grabbed that by his arteries and breathed life into his eyes, through her smiles and her loyalty and her way of just making you want to <em>fight</em>.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>All she’d have to do is ask nicely, and the whole world would fall at her feet, starting with Gale Hawthorne. He’d be on his knees, in dirty denim jeans and he’d wait for her.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Peeta knows because it happened to him too: he’d be on his knees, just behind.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She doesn’t respond to his question, again, fiddling her thumbs on the wooden table between them. Katniss hasn’t answered many of his questions.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He smiles sadly, warmly, saying, “I knew I didn’t have a chance, but I still wanted my shot, y’know?”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss just stares at him in shock, and it the most she’s noticed him all night. He’s rises from their little red booth. “Maybe in another life.” One where Gale Hawthorne isn’t there to stop him.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>That doesn’t even sound right: Gale Hawthorne will always be there. Peeta knows it.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He leaves the district, and that’s the last she sees of Peeta Mellark. He has no connections here, his family burned too. (Her fault.) He leaves District 12 and Delly Cartwright follows; Katniss doesn’t know what becomes of them.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(Years later, Katniss Everdeen and Gale Hawthorne are invited to a wedding. They attend, side by side.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Prim still sees Rory, and therefore Katniss still sees Gale. She honestly doesn’t think she’d be able to not see him anyway. He’s always there.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(His fault? Was it even his bomb? If so, it’s not like he fired it, or even authorized its use. He just left it somewhere it shouldn’t have been.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Most notably, and admirably, he had told her the truth. He could’ve omitted, not said anything, and he would be by her side right now, like normal. They never lied to one another, though. That’s the deal of this world.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She’s still angry.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Primrose eats breakfast with her, every morning: Katniss has never been able to eat <em>every</em> morning. They are having “cereal” today, Prim had said. She bought it from the market—the Hob. Katniss swirled her spoon in the milk.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Are you ever going to forgive him for something he might not have even done?” Katniss clutches the spoon, eyes wide. It’s too early for this; her hair isn’t even braided yet, just thrown up in a shameful bun.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“How could I forgive him for something he has admitted to doing?” Prim’s eyes don’t startle like they used to. She has grown, and is almost as old as Katniss was when Madge was reaped.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“He’s always been one to take on too much responsibility.” Primrose has grown, but her eyes are still blue, and her hair is still blonde. Her shirt hangs loosely off muscles instead of bone. She’s grown so much and she’s still Primrose.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“How long can you avoid your feelings for him, Katniss? We can’t be reaped, and he doesn’t need to work in the mines anymore. It wasn’t his fault anyway. He didn’t send the bomb.” She sips her milk, quietly. “He didn’t do it.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Prim...” Katniss knows all these things. She can’t deal with her sister knowing more than her, being a breadwinner, being independent. Katniss’ sister doesn’t need her anymore. “He <em>did.</em>”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss never wanted to need anyone, but her heart aches when no one needs her.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Katniss, let go of it all, our father, the games, the monster Twelve used to be. Please, forgive him.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She pauses, “I know, Prim.” Her fingers fiddle awkwardly. “I’m so <em>angry</em>, but I’m already forgiving him at the same time. That’s what I feel bad about.” she pauses, “our mother is dead!” Katniss looks her in the eye. The blonde eyes finally show reaction. They soften into a wide stare, nodding her head in understanding.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Prim keeps going, words too old for her. “I just want to be happy, Kat. Your tearing yourself apart.” Solemnly, Prim sets her bowl on the old table between them.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Her final words blend from cereal. “I can’t, Prim. I just can’t.” Buttercup, orange and ugly, saunters into the room, without care and Katniss feels a spike of envy.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Prim’s eyes are pleading. “You can try, can’t you?”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. i love you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>scars are funny like that.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div>
  <p>
    <strong>
      <em>xi. year twelve: addendum</em>
    </strong>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Madge invites her to dinner, on one of their little walks through the district.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss agrees, adding, “but I have to bring strawberries.” They fall into step together, Katniss cusping her wrist behind her back.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Madge’s smile is sweet and a little too mischievous. She wears pants and a loose, grey T-shirt, looking like herself. “Always.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Knocking on the door, Katniss is witness to Thom, smiling with flour on his cheek as he opens the door. His grey eyes land on the berries, quickly inviting her in.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>When she sits at the set table, she sees four spots, but doesn’t quite process it. Madge is at the sink, cleaning, and Thom kisses her on the shoulder before making his way outside. A little whistle leaves Katniss’ mouth teasingly: Madge blushes, seeping her hands into soapy waters.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss’ eyes follow Thom as he makes his way into their yard, and Gale—<em>Gale</em>—is in the backyard, chopping wood. His cheeks are puffed with effort, and sweat drips down his toned arms on each swing. When a chop hits roughly, a clean cut, she jolts into lucidity, and she almost flees on the spot, bolting up from her wooden chair.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Please stay.” Madge asks as she turns from the sink, wiping her hands dry.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(<em>“You can try.”</em> Prim had said.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss settles into the carved chair, unmoving and awkward as she folds her hands in front of her. When Gale carries logs in, distractedly chatting with Thom, he stills abruptly. A few pieces of kindling hit the hardwood floor with twitters and thwacks.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The look at each other, “hey, Gale.” She supplies from the table, turning her head to acknowledge him. Her hands clutch each other on the surface.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(<em>“You can try.”</em>)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Hey,” Gale coughs out hoarsely. He bends to pick up the wood, walking passed her to the fire place on her left.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>These are the only words they share all night: they talk to Thom, or to Madge, or to Thom and Madge, but never to one another. Their eyes can’t help but follow each other though.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>It doesn’t matter how much she doesn’t want to, she is still drawn to him when he speaks, when he moves. He tells Madge about Rory, how he went through a “no pants” phase when he was about nine, and even though Katniss was traumatized by Rory shaking his tiny butt around the house, she still laughs. When Gale looks over at her silent giggles, his shoulders lower and his eyes soften like they shouldn’t, and when her eyes meet his, Gale flickers his gaze away.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She remembers Rory’s phase very well. For a while afterward the little boy could barely look her in the eye. Live and learn: now, he always wears something to cover his ass.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She has the urge to joke about how, maybe, Rory got it from Gale, because surely, he had some phases too, but speaking to him is hard.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>When it was about nine o’clock, Katniss rose from her chair, knees slightly buckling from sitting for so long. “Prim is expecting me. I gotta go.” She steps to put her shoes on. “It was good seeing you guys.” She doesn’t look at Gale—at all—but her words are meant for him too, even if she doesn’t want them to be.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Are you sure you don’t want that money, Katniss?” Madge rises to grab the bag that’s always on the counter. Gale’s eyes widen in recognition. Katniss cringes. Madge doesn’t understand, but then she freezes as it dawns on her.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“That’s where you got the money from.” There’s no accusation, just truth and a twinge of relief. Madge sets the money down.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss looks at him, sitting peacefully next to Thom, who has also silenced, “and?” It’s the reason he was whipped to oblivion. She hates the money, now, and hates herself for taking it. It was <em>charity</em>.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He stares, saying, “you lied about it.” She still feels her cheeks burning with embarrassment but the scar is cold.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Yeah, well I learned from the best.” She’s out the door before she can feel bad, her cheek aching. Katniss heard him rise to stand behind her, but he won’t follow: she knows that.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(<em>“You can try.” </em>She’s trying, but it’s not only about forgiving him.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He didn’t lie. He’s never lied, but she knew the words would hurt him, purely because of how false they were, and because he thinks she believes them.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(People she cares about get hurt. He has forty-two scars to prove it.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She didn’t expect him to run off and move on, though. She didn’t expect him to do what she wanted him to.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Gale Hawthorne is dating Marie Grasper, as heard through the grapevine. Katniss freezes where she sits in the Hob. Greasy Sae looks sympathetic as she wipes down her counters, “a month or two, I reckon.” Then, she’s gone to her next customer.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss is startled raw, achingly loud. The counter is solid as it watches her, whispers of hands and laughing flow through her ears, making her blush and squeeze her hands into her lap.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss goes to their rock. “A month or two,” Sae reckons: the girls, they never last more than a week (she hadn’t). Katniss feels betrayed, relieved, disappointed and empty all at once, so she hunts. She knows it’s a Sunday, and she knows he will be here, even though he doesn’t mine anymore.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Habits are hard to break, even the Capitol designed ones.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She had been strategically avoiding Sundays on her hunting schedule. Now she’s here. Her mother is <em>dead</em>. She should never want to see him again, but she misses him.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Feeling those words and saying those words are completely different challenges. Besides, she’s half-certain the word “miss” doesn’t describe what she feels.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Forgive him: she’s trying. Protect him: she can’t. If he just stays away from her, everything will work out perfectly, (but she can’t stay away from him).</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He doesn’t come. Disappointment fills her as she runs the snare line, but she shows up the next Sunday without fail. Then, the next. One day, he’s there, and apon seeing her, he skids around. She calls his name, and when he shifts to face her, she doesn’t know what to say, again.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“You’re dating Marie?” A bad start.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“You’re dating Peeta?” A worse response.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“No.” His eyes widen a fraction. She ignores it, moving on. “He left the District.” Her arms cross as they always seem to do when she’s vulnerable. “I always thought you guys looked cute.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Honestly, there is no pain behind her tone, curiosity mostly. Katniss hides everything without thinking, trying, and he still sees right through her. The trees feel grey and her heart is aching.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Yeah.” One word and a guarded gaze, that’s what he’s giving. He’s ready for an attack.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss kicks at a stick, mumbling, “hunt with me?” Stay away from me.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She wants to forgive him: she (misses) him.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He doesn’t sit with her on the rock, but he hunts with her, or more like haunts her. Gale’s never with her: he’s always over Katniss’ shoulder, even when she stops to wait for him. He checks the snares after she does. Worst of all, he doesn’t correct her snares: Gale just wordlessly tinkers with it after she leaves, but she notices.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(He has forty-two lashes to prove it, so why can’t she stay away from him?)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The traps fill quickly throughout the week, but he’s only there sporadically: sometimes, he has to watch his siblings, or less favourably, he has a date. This week, he was there Wednesday, Thursday, and Sunday.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>They walk side by side. She can pretend it’s all fine. After all, he isn’t trailing behind her anymore.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She doesn’t feel unbearable anger when she looks at him like she used to: resentment is still present some days, but Katniss is trying.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Her eyes don’t narrow and burn when he takes off his familiar gloves. Instead, her gaze widens, almost dropping her arrow, when she sees how his fingers slightly shake with snare wire scars and a few too burns.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She realizes how much of him burned when the <em>beep</em> went off too. How much his hands are scarred with what he did, and just like Madge or even Katniss, this is war, and the things they did will <em>beep</em> in their minds forever.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Then, he puts his gloves back on and ambles the next snare, leaving Katniss with a bow in her hands and an epiphany on her mind.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She glances over her shoulder at Gale’s a back as he breathes heavily and Katniss wonders if maybe he hears screams when he tries to close his eyes too.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Gale deserves more than he’s taking from her. Like always. He let her be angry, never pushed for forgiveness. He gives her space.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss sees his sins on his shoulders in how he carries them and, god, she wishes he’d forgive himself too. Because when he looks at her, she swears agony surrounds her reflection in his irises.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(oh katniss. you’re doing the one thing you said you never would.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>They eat lunch together, the next Friday. Sae gives them a huge bowl, says they have to share. Katniss has no qualms, taking a bite. It’s beef, and Katniss groans. Sae’s soup has never had beef before, not when she’s had it. Gale looks wary, but sips some of the broth.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She clanks his spoon when he blows on it to cool his bite, spilling beefy, thick broth in his lap, but before he can be even slightly angry, she’s cackling at him. He rubs his greasy spoon on her cheek, but she keeps laughing: his lips quirk.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(He looks like he peed himself, and to Katniss, it’s the funniest shit ever.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Mopping the floors of the apothecary become cathartic for her. Cleaning, organizing and sweeping, they all let her think without wanting to rip her hair out.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss wipes the windows of Primrose’s little store, drenching the sleeves of her rolled up flannel shirt. Of course she thinks of sins and mistakes (always), which leads her to Gale. When she thinks of Gale, a pang goes through, head to toe. Mourning smiles leave her body like the soapy water that runs down the window as she wipes it away.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Only sadness is left in her, and clarity as she sees the other side. Through the window, people walk down the street, many she recognizes, but they seem so much happier. Most of them do: some will never be happy. Katniss doesn’t want to be one of them.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Children scream their way to the new school, playing tag. A man reads on a bench: he wears glasses, something that was—until months ago—only a myth. Katniss used to think they were a fashion statement in the Capitol, but turns out, some people <em>need</em> them. Three lovely women are handing out flyers, offering jobs. Half the buildings are still being laid, brick by brick. It’s bustling and busy.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>When Katniss sees them, her hands squeeze the water from her cloth. Marie holds his hand tightly, pulling him from the florist to the well that survived the bombings.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He looks so happy, and Katniss realizes how much she wanted—wants that. Marie brings out a little purse, grabbing for a coin: Gale cringes when she drops it in, even when the blonde kisses his cheek. Old habits die hard: money is money. Katniss drops her cloth into her soapy bucket with a undignified huff, splashing her jeans.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Cleaning gives her clarity, and as she watches Gale and Marie through the newly crystal clean windows, a yearning seeps into her flannel shirt.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She wants to know where he used to stand, is it where she stands now? Ready, or maybe not ready, but willing to try. They... they don’t live in the same district they used to. It’s safe and warm and they can’t just die tomorrow. His eyes catch her in the window as the skirt-clad blonde drags him away. He’s eyes widen, and he stumbles lightly. Thrusting hers hands into suddy water, her faces tinges pink. When she tentatively lifts her gaze, Gale is gone, leaving a bustling street where children play soccer and adults laugh and yell with one another in harmony, and it’s like he was never there.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss bites her lip to keep from swearing. She wants him, scarred back and burnt hands and loyal smiles. She desires to give him an answer. What ifs fill her mind endlessly.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(he killed your mother.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>i know.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>One day, like many other other days, they lie in the woods. It’s quiet and usual and orthodox. Her braid mixes with the leaves as they fly in the wind.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“I forgive you.” Three little words whisper from her lips as they lay in their rock. He turns his head toward lightly. “And I’m sorry.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He sits up on his elbows, next to her, listening to her words. Gale doesn’t acknowledge what she says, but she sees his chin rise with the words, if only slightly. It’s the sins, maybe.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“I got a job.” He murmurs in response, tugging the cuffs of his leather jacket—because they don’t do communicating, or simple answers—and suddenly, she’s sitting up too. Frantic stares and wild thoughts fill her head: <em>the mines</em>. Almost sensing her distress, he continues. “No, it’s in construction. We’re building a hospital.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>A hospital. No coal in sight. Rubbing the soles of her boots together, she feels a thread of shame over her panic. “It’s nice to know you care, Katniss.” He jokes, and her eyes narrow slightly, but she knows he sees the quirk in her lips. “My job means I won’t be able to hunt as much. I just thought you should know.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She doesn’t hide her disappointment from him. Her brows draw downward in understanding.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He does need the money. Primrose and Katniss’ apothecary give them all they need and Katniss only has work three days a week. He doesn’t quite have the luxury.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“I’m glad.” And she is.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>A little more time passes as they lie there, and just relaxing is <em>awesome</em>. She isn’t counting the minutes they’re wasting, isn’t counting the empty stomachs they’re failing to feed.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>But the time ends. “Fuck.” He whispers, and she looks at him, opening one eye, brow raised. “I had a date.” He sits up, and she goes with him.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Oh.” Somehow she forgot about Marie. Somehow.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“I missed it.” He says a little too nonchalantly as he steps over a familiar root on the way to the fence.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Shame.” She tries to mean it, she does. He’s happy with Marie: he is. The rest of the walk is comfortable silence.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>As they pull by his house, the blonde sits on the steps in a pretty purple dress. Marie’s glare is waiting to latch onto her. Her blonde curls blind Katniss as Marie rises. “Are you serious, Gale? Her, again.” Katniss turns to leave, stepping quickly.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(Down the cobble, the last thing she hears is, “are you ever gonna get over her?” She ducks her, pacing faster.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Without realizing it, she’s back to avoiding him. All she does is cause him problems anyway. When she stops showing up on Sundays again, she knows he won’t question it.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>But he does, the next Sunday morning, far too early. She hates the morning.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>At 5 A.M., with bleary eyes and an oversized t-shirt that belonged to her father, she opens her door. He stands with his hands clasped behind his back, like a soldier (he was one: it was war). Like he’s been practicing. What an idiot. Did he think she couldn’t tell?</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Did you mean it?” He is asking of her forgiveness, cold fog clasping each word because winter is on its way.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>It’s been three weeks since then, “of course I did.” His eyes widen as she shoulders the door in her ratty sleep clothes.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Then why are you avoiding me,” his voice is softens with a pause, “again?” He unlatches his grip on his wrists, shoulders falling forward and revealing his rolled up sleeves just below his elbows. The soldier in him wipes away.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>For some reason, she gives a blunt answer. Maybe, it’s because she’s exhausted, and her eyes are blurring. Maybe, it’s because of winter’s chill. “I’m just tired of hurting you, Gale. I’m getting in the way of everything in your life. Your girlfriend, your job, your family.” She pauses, as shocked with her words as him. “I thought... if I just, went away, you’d maybe just forget about me.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He’s startled: his wrinkles scrunch in surprise. He’s twenty, going on twenty-one: he shouldn’t have wrinkles like he does. Katniss wants to wipe them away, along with his scars and traumas and tears.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>His voice breaks her from wherever her mind goes when she thinks of him. It’s a spot constantly occupied.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Katniss, I could never just <em>forget</em> you.” He takes a breath, staring at his dusty leather shoes. Making eye contact with her, he continues. “You don’t get in the way of anything.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Yes I do. Marie—“</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Marie dumped me.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Her eyes widen. “Exactly. That’s my fault.” Her voice cracks with morning husk.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“It really is.” Gale smirks at her, and she glares. She knows her hair is a nest and she has dirt on her face, but he still looks at her with admiring eyes, maybe with a little tease, but that never really leaves him. “Now that we’re over that, I was wondering if you want to go to dinner—” Katniss is about to whole-heartedly agree when he continues. “—with Madge and Thom?”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She still agrees, if slightly disappointed, but then she tells him to go away bluntly—which he laughs at—before falling back into bed.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(Why was he here so early? Some habits are hard to break. If he still gets up at four in the morning like they used to, Katniss is going to kick his ass.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Him and Thom do that thing, the “man hug” Gale calls it, with a laugh. They eat loudly, smile fondly, drink a little too much, and actually speak to each other this time. They may speak in glances and fidgets, but that’s how they always were.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>A look from Katniss, “<em>do you want another drink?”</em></p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Feeling brave, Gale winks, “<em>you already know.”</em></p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She glares, with a smile. “<em>Fuck off.”</em></p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He laughs out loud, causing Madge and Thom to stare at him in confusion. They will never understand Katniss and Gale, but they enjoy their company all the same.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>They’re all so relaxed, casually dressed and breathing.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Halfway through the night, Madge glows with an idea. “There’s one thing I can thank the Capitol for!” She’s gone around the house, and when she returns, she holds twelve red cups and a little orange orb. “It’s a <em>ping-pong</em> ball, whatever that means.” She hiccups a laugh, commanding Thom and Gale to move the wooden table away from the wall. “Haymitch showed me and Peeta this game once. Effie was <em>awful</em> at it. It’s was probably the heels.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>After the boys move the table, Katniss copies Madge across the table as she sets up a triangle of six cups and pours a quarter of vodka into each. “This is gonna be bad, Madge.” Katniss states.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“I know!” She shouts, pouring the last cup. She hands the bottle to Katniss. The dry-humoured blonde is stubborn and bubbly when tipsy, but she explains the rules sufficiently well.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Each team gets two throws. If it bounces you can interfere with the shot; if it lands in a cup you drink. If a team gets both in, they get the pong-ping (whatever that means) balls back. If it bounces, and then lands in a cup, you drink two: Katniss reminds herself never to let that happen.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss looks to Gale with a smiley glint in her eye, and bravely says with alcohol on her tongue. “As a master archer,” Gale scoffs, “and my okay-archer of a partner,” Scoffing again, he tugs her braid. “We’re going to destroy you.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(She’s a <em>very</em> competitive drunk.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Thom laughs, “if you’re so good, go first.” They do: Katniss completely overthrows and Gale nicks the edge of the cup, smiling sheepishly. He teases, “at least the ‘okay-archer’ hit the cup.” Katniss glares, crossing her arms.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(Somehow, Gale teases her <em>more</em> when he’s drunk, and he’s touchy.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Madge sinks her first shot, “No fair! You’ve played before!” Katniss yelps, staring at the cup.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Where’d your confidence go?” Thom challenges, attempting a distraction. He almost succeeds, sneakily bouncing it off the table for the double score while Katniss puffs her cheeks. Gale diligently snatches it, grinning at Thom’s raised brow.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Good effort, Thomas.” He says, making Katniss laugh while she takes her shot. She almost snaps at Gale when it leaves her fingers—under thrown severely—but the orange ball lands it in a cup after it bounces.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The table is shocked silent, but it’s broken when Gale whoops, picking her up in a hug. Before she can process it what he did and the warmth that tingles through her—touchy—she’s on her feet, and he’s taking his shot, missing for the second time abysmally.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Madge and Thom make both of theirs, earning the balls back, but then Madge misses and Thom sinks his. Katniss drinks one: Gale drinks two, “I have more body mass.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“I have more tolerance.” Must everything be a challenge?</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Doubtful.” He gulps the second cup through her playful glare.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>They end up losing, but with only one cup left on the other side and—shit, they’re drunk. Madge and Thom get a little too friendly, and so Katniss and Gale decide it’s time to go home.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Her and Gale wave the residents of the house goodbye as they walk into the chilly night. Through the haze of alcohol, they don’t feel the cold. Gale grasps her hand lightly as snow drizzles through the inky black sky.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>They stumble home, pulling at each other, giddy and random and oh-so-very drunk. She hangs off his arm. Their steps lead them across the streets. Somewhere along the line, they wander through what used to be the centre point of the District: the square.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p><em>Crack</em>.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She inhales quickly, padding her feet along the cobble path—his whipping. His fingers tighten around hers. Slowing down with recognition, they sober up with the crisp memories. Like that dreadful day, the snow sprinkles down, thick and chilly. Katniss feels her mockingjay pin press into her chest.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>They pull along silently, and Katniss processes they’ve never really been out passed dark, at least not in these streets, where the bones are buried under cobblestone paths to join the miners who waited to greet them. She’s blurry minded and shaking. Not even the alcohol can numb her tingling scars.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He pulls her to face him, little snowflakes land on his face, melting into freckles she’s counted a hundred times. She’s sure they’re in her hair too. His fingers brush the scar on her cheek, and his other hand thumbs the one her palm.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“I’m sorry.” His voice is a little slurred, but largely honest. They’re really going to talk about this.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>His hands rest on her face lightly, and though her feet are numb, she feels his toes kicking at hers. Katniss brushes the dark hair from his forehead, breathing out a white fog. “I am too, Gale.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p><em>Crack</em>. Maybe one day, the sound will leave her mind.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She’s pretty sure she kissed him last night, just after that, but she can’t really remember.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(Yes she can.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>When they reached the steps of his little house, it’s only resident leads her to the door. With the cold snow falling, she’s definitely sure she kisses him again. His keys open the door, pushing her inside.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He picks her up by her knees, leads her to his bed. “Shit.” He’d whispered and she clearly remembered him doing so. “Katniss, how drunk are you?”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“About as drunk as you.” She kissed him and that was the end of his inner turmoil. She tugs his shirt over his head, and he thumbs the buttons in her jeans.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He finds the whipping scar on her inner thigh with his lips. “I’m so sorry,” he chokes again, dragging his mouth along its rigged, white edges. She does the same to his scars, all forty-two.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Stop apologizing...” she murmurs into his shoulder, even though she knows he’s apologizing to himself, to free his back from the pillars he’s carried since he was fourteen. “It’s okay, I forgive you.” She says it for him. “I forgive you.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>When he pulls her underwear off, her fingers dig into his hair. Her thighs close around his head as she keens for him, over and over, biting her lip, locking her ankles. An embarrassingly high screech leaves her lips when his finger angle left just slightly inside her, but his thumb rubs her wrist soothingly in response while his other thumb abuses her clit. She comes a little roughly, struggling to catch her breath. He laughs softly</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Dragging his lips up to hers by his hair, she whispers, “I definitely forgive you,” and he laughs harder. She trails her mouth down his body, earnest to return the favour.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The button of his pants seems daunting; she’s never done this before. His fingers trail her shoulders and he whispers, “you don’t have to.” Then, she does it, because she’s competitive.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(Maybe, now that the war is over, maybe people she cares about won’t get hurt.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She’s pretty sure they fucked last night and maybe it wasn’t quite fucking. It felt like more, but she can’t really remember.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>It’s a Monday, and he has to work. When she wakes up in the morning, he’s gone with a little note left behind.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p><em>“I don’t wanna be ‘just friends’ anymore Catnip.”</em> It’s a scrawl, in his weird all-caps choice of printing. Bad grammar and runny ink, there are a few too many words crosses out to be accidental, but it’s legible.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>It shouldn’t still scare her, but it does, just a little, but now it’s a butterflies-in-your-stomach fear, not a what-if-he-dies-tomorrow fear, and that makes her heart jump in excitement. She sits up and rereads it, beginning to wonder when she became such a girl, rereading a simplistic and direct message.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>As she gets dressed, she thinks, and thinks, and thinks. When she’s done thinking, she writes on the bottom of the note,<em> “Me too.”</em></p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Then she leaves.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She’s putting herbs on the shelves when the new bell at the front of the store chimes. She holds a crate in her arms and her fingers smell like plants when Gale plops in front of her. His hair is flattened by his construction helmet which he’s thankfully removed from his head. He stinks of oil and sweat but his eyes absolutely glow.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Is this serious?” It’s a scared tone.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He holds the note in his hands, and—oh wow, he came right here when he saw it, didn’t he? Further examination of his appearance, prove her thoughts. An unwashed face and—muddied boots.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>On her floor, which she has to mop. She glares at his feet, refusing to give him an answer. “Oh, sorry!” He rushes out the door, but then, just outside the window he pushes the note against the window, and it’s like they don’t need words. Never did.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>“Is this real?”</em>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She nods curtly, unwilling to stare, because a customer with a cough comes in and Katniss has to call Primrose from the back.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>In corner of her eye, she sees Gale rub his grimy hand—palm and all—on the window, printing a black streak across it. She’s going to have to clean that too, but when she scowls at him over the elderly customer’s head, he just smirks and does it again before running off.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>What a <em>prick.</em></p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(Sometimes, coming home is hard, but we all get there, eventually.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>They visit her mother’s grave hand in hand, truly a weird first date. The stone is small, just to her kneecaps, and simple. They sit down, in front of it and she can see Gale’s shoulders falter.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>His eyes begin to water slowly. Making no noise, his elbows rest on his raised knees as he stares at the stone. She can feel her throat clog and—oh god, the tears are coming. Explosively they run down her cheeks. Neither of them make a sound as she falls to her knees next his already seated body.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“How many children did I—“ <em>kill</em>. He can’t say it. His hand reaches out to hers, desperately. “I’m sorry, Catnip.” She realizes he hasn’t called her that in forever, realizes as her eyes water, she isn’t crying over her mother. She’s crying over <em>everything</em>: in her relief, in her grief.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She grabs him by the nape of his neck, softly dragging him to her shoulder in a hug, but Gale just sprawls into her lap before he can get there, pushing his tears into her stomach. He whispers, “there’s so much I could’ve done.” So much.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(how many children did you kill? some, no oh wait, the report says 305. you checked last year, gale, fifteen times.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“I should’ve—“</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Shhh..” A tear falls into his hair. That tear was for the fact that they survived, the reapings, the revolution, and another for her mother.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>His anger and her fear—they almost ripped them apart—she sheds tears for that too. “Don’t ‘shhh’.. me.” He sobs a laugh, wrapping his arms around her. His fingers brush the grass at her back.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>In front of her mother’s grave, cathartic tears seep into the green grass. She has collapsed completely and it’s fine. To cry in someone’s arm, to cry together, without shame, is something she’d never thought possible. Whenever she’d sobbed in his embrace before, it was to hide away from it, to cover up.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>His nose pushes into her navel, “I’m so... sorry.” The thickness in his throat is choking her. She can smell the salt of their tears.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Shhhh...shhhhhh...” his laughter is broken and hiccuped, but he’s <em>laughing</em>, with melancholy, but still. She smiles down at him, covering his mouth with her hand as he chuckles, exhausted. “I said... shhhhhhh.” She shushes him so aggressively a little drop of spit lands on the side of his face. He just laughs harder, licking her palm, feeling the ridges of her scar.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>His face goes solemn when his tongue tickles it edges, kissing her palm. And she thinks he looks like a child, small, like maybe Vick. His thumb presses into her thigh, where he knows her deepest scar resides.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“I’m sorry you went through that for me.” It finally clicks that, of course, <em>her</em> scars are what he’s always saddened over, her three scars.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She scratches his scalp, “the whipping?” He nods slightly carving his eyes away from her as her tears well up again. “Are you serious? You got whipped...forty-two times. If I hadn’t given you that turkey—” she whispers.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Then it would’ve been you.” He cripples out from her shirt.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“It would’ve been better that way.” He looks at her brokenly, tightening his arms. Gale glares at her.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He brushes his thumb on her cheek. “Katniss, every time I look at you I remember, I failed to protect you.” His voice cracks lightly, and she knows he’s talking about her mother too.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She pulls his face to hers, and she kisses him softly, pain-filled, praying to make the tears stop. They don’t stop, they just blend together.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“We failed each other.” It sounds harsh but it’s acceptance.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>His fingers wrap into her hair. Her scarred cheek bolts as her fingertips brush the two lashes always peaking from his shirt. Her lips push against his, and she really hopes he leaves his sins here, in the graveyard.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss has felt starvation, and that kiss felt like eating an apple after days of only drinking water, convincing yourself it’s enough. She swallows his soul, serves up her heart, and holds it out. It’s broken and bleeding, and so are his hands when he hugs it, kissing it better, slowly.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(Eventually, we all get there.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He says it sooner than she wants him to. “I love you.” He says it like it’s a fact, as his fingers twiddle the strings of her broken snare.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She tries to say it back; it’s in her throat, truly. “I- I know,” comes out instead. The woods are warm and she’s so scared she wrecked what they have again, but he just smiles a little, kissing her cheek before he moves on to the next line.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Hollowness fills her, feeling like failure. As the trip ends and they embark to leave, she pushes him against a tree and he drops his game bag. His lips push against hers harshly as his thumb grazes her jaw.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He pushes her back, “Catnip?” She stares at him with puffy lips. “You don’t have to do that because I told you I loved you.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She messed up, <em>again</em>. She can’t get it right. “Ok.” Her response is quiet and she looks down to the ground.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Lifting her chin with his knuckles, his eyes look for hers, and when they meet, they stare. He moves her hair from her face, brushing the scar. “Hey, it’s alright.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>It’s not, not to her. Her cheeks burn with shame because she’s so awkward and why did she do that? He doesn’t seem disturbed though, pinching her elbow to point a rabbit. She quickly shoots it, missing the eye socket by three inches.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>One day they both slowly realize she has practically moved in with him, and while cleaning at the apothecary, Katniss almost apologizes to Primrose for never being home, but then she sees Rory and realizes her sister probably didn’t notice.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss briefly wonders if her sister and Gale’s brother getting together would be weird, but ultimately, she decided it was fine, adorable even, if she didn’t overthink it.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Through the—is that a grease print? What a <em>prick</em>—window, Rory plants a gentle kiss on Prim’s cheek, and Katniss can’t wait to tell Gale. Since when did she start cataloguing things into the “tell Gale” bracket?</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(The asshole already knew. Her mouth gapes and he just laughs at her, removing his hard hat to set on the hook Katniss hammered into the wall for him. He helps her clean and then they play some checkers and it’s all so normal, quiet and it freaks her out, but she never wants it to go away.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>It takes months of him saying it; he never expected it back. He knew how she felt, knew what words she tried to put behind other words.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The closest she ever got was, “I missed you.” That always makes him smile, makes him love her more, kiss her longer, lift her higher. The love she has is in what she does: she packs his lunches in the morning before she heads off to hunt. Katniss has his bow and quiver ready on their rock when she knows he’s coming. She combs her fingers in his hair during the night.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Most startlingly she sings for him: she only sings to Prim, or to her parents’ grave, only to people she loves.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He saw it, the guilt in her eyes, when he says it. “I love you.” Gale tries to say it proudly now, making sure she knows he doesn’t expect it back, that he knows she loves him too.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>One day, it works: she realizes she doesn’t need to feel guilty, but now she just longs to say it back.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He’s in construction, rebuilding twelve, making a hospital for her mother.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She’s hunted almost everyday. <em>“It’s not the same without you there.” </em>That’s another one; she leaves it on a note, just for him.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She struggles to say it back, because it feels like a death sentence. She knows it’s stupid, especially now. He doesn’t work in the mines. The last thing she said to her father was, “I love you.” To her, if she says it to Gale he won’t come home.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(She jolts awake one night, with him right beside her, and he’s up right away. Comforting words in her ear make her ask herself, what if the last thing she says to him isn’t, <em>“I love you”</em>?)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>
      <strong>xii. year one: there is no reaping.</strong>
    </em>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He comes home from work, feeling happy, disgustingly <em>happy</em>, and on the table waits a note.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p><em>“hey its almost ur birthday?”</em> The little colloquial paper says.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p><em>“Yep.” </em>He writes down next to it, grabbing his hunting jacket on the way out the door.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She’s gone when he wakes up in the next morning, and as he makes his way to the kitchen, he pulls a shirt over his back. The chill of winter is coming, and first thing in the morning was always the worst time to feel it. Especially, after his scars start to throb with the chill.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He puts water to a boil, grabbing instant coffee from their highest cupboard, the cheapest kind, and sits at the table. Katniss hates coffee, and always hated mornings more, but back when they were teenagers, they didn’t have a choice. Gale waits for the “shittiest coffee in existence” to start whistling, because some things never change.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>For Katniss it did. The first day they went to the market together, she discovered a magical drink called hot chocolate. They have money, so even though she shyly overlooked it in spite of her desire, he grabbed it.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Let us have this. Just once.” Her words from two years ago sparked in her eyes and she s miled lightly at him.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>When the kettle starts to whistle, he pours himself a mug of the “shittiest coffee in existence!” He can hear her grumble, see her face scrunch when she kisses him in the mornings, tasting it on his lips.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She stopped drinking coffee after getting to District 13, because they didn’t need to get up so early anymore. She told him she hated it because of the bitterness.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(One Sunday morning, before she rolled out of bed, he gave her a cup of coffee instead of her chocolate treat. After it had already cooled she arrived at the table, bed-headed and grumpy.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She coughed it up roughly. His heavy laughter made her eyebrows twitch. She poured it on him; it was morning after all, and he learned in the woods when he about sixteen not to fuck with Katniss Everdeen before ten o’clock. He was stupid to taunt her, but still, the memory makes him chuckle.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>His back gets a sudden chill from the morning breeze in the window. Gale takes a sip of his fresh coffee, and it warms him. He is so going soft if he needs coffee to warm him in his <em>heated</em> house.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Gale can’t believe he used to live in a house without electrical heat, can’t remember a time without a fridge. Well, he can. It was a time of too much jerky. He doesn’t know if that means he is going soft or he earned it. He can hear Daxon, an old mining buddy in his head, grumpily stating with a popping jaw, <em>“Back in my day...”</em></p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Well, that’s his boss now, so Gale better get used to it. He promises himself he’s never saying, “back in my day...” to his grand-kids: they will never be told of the Hunger Games he prays, because they never need to know, and suddenly, his good mood is dampened. It’s been almost a year since a reaping, but his heart still squeezes. He sits down at the table, sighing.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(He also does his best to ignore grand-kids. That’s not happening, and honestly, if his siblings have them, he’ll be satisfied.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Even if he’s going soft, at least that means Katniss is too. Gale knows having hot water and a shower makes her sigh sensually almost nightly.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>His distracted reminiscing was interrupted when he saw the note on the table. <em>“Just checking! Meet at ur moms house at 6 tonight. We r having cake!” </em>Grammatical errors and all, he still smiles.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Posy is going to love this. He sips his shitty coffee.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He gets there fifteen minutes early, and is greeted by his brother and Primrose sneaking kisses on the front porch of his mother’s new house.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>It still screams dilapidated, because they aren’t rich, but it’s bigger, warmer than their old shack used to be. There are three bedrooms, and an attic for a makeshift fourth, but there’s still only one bathroom.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Madge and Thom are in the living room, wrapped up in one another: Posy and Vick pester them and they look so much like parents.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss is at the table with her back turned to him, and his mother is in the kitchen, combing through cupboards. He comes up behind Katniss, wrapping his arms around her waist. His lips tickle her ears: she squirms because her ears are sensitive. He knows. Gale thinks he hears his mother chuckle lightly.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He glances down at the cake as she sneaks her cheek onto his shoulder. “Happy 50th Birthday, Gale!” The cake says.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She starts giggling under her breath before he whispers, “you think this is funny? I’m only <em>twenty-one</em>, Catnip.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“You’re old, Gale.” But before she can turn to pester him with his age, he’s tickling her sides, pulling her away from the cake. Her laughter keens and she’s pushing off him: Posy—hearing her cries—runs into the kitchen like a knight in shining armour. Madge shouts after her.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She latches onto Gale’s leg but fails to stop Gale’s assault. His fingers wiggle into Katniss’ side to a harsh degree when she grabs his fingers, pecking him on the lips to distract him. His mother gasps. It only works for a second—she savours her breath—before his fingers resume.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Thom laughs from the floor, “about fucking time!” Madge smacks him on the back of the head.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“There are kids!” He has the decency to look a little shameful, but he’s always been blunt like that, in the kind and bravest of ways. Katniss remembers when he called her pretty, just because, and she’s sure he calls Madge beautiful daily. Katniss flushes in realization when she processes Thom’s exclamation.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>They forgot to tell everyone—(“also, we live together! Did we forget to mention that? Our bad.”)—but when Katniss glances at his mother, Hazelle doesn’t even look surprised. Gale’s fingers resume, finding Katniss’ armpit. Posy jumps up to grab his forearm, squealing.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Haha...Gale, stop—<em>please</em>,” his frantic movements slow with her breathing. She lifts the hair on his forehead to look him in the eyes as she leans back into the counter.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(This is her chance: it would be so easy, but she just blinks at him, mouth empty of words, again.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He moves to pick up Posy and makes his way over to chat with his mother, leaving her in her shock. Katniss blinks rapidly, turning to cut the cake with a tiny little frown on her face. Just <em>say</em> it.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(Thom pushes Madge back. “What? It’s true! He was in love with her for <em>years!</em>” Katniss flushes, back turned to anyone who’d tease her (just Gale). “You forget we were best friends or something?” Katniss almost laughs as she cuts cake into squares. No, Thom, Madge was kind of busy sneering at Gale and his entourage of the female species to notice you.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The table is set: there is a spot for her mother, but it doesn’t feel empty. It’s like the spot both families have for their fathers, like the one’s Madge has for her parents, and like the one Thom has for his brother who died in a mining accident.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>No one will sit there and no one will mention it.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>—</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>When Gale reaches his mother, he hands her Posy, but the little heathen rips from her grasp. Running off, she screams, “Vick!”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He watches her go, with adoring eyes, far too fatherly. He was only a boy: Hazelle’s lips still squint when she thinks of it, all the responsibility she couldn’t prevent, falling on his shoulders, shoulders that just wanted to grow.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“You did good, Gale.” She tells him, and he looks at her. “I’m so proud of you.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He widens his eyes, and suddenly he’s looking over his shoulder at the girl Hazelle was always thankful existed. Katniss Everdeen kept her boy sane through it all, and Hazelle always feared her Reaping as much as her son’s, because where Katniss went, Gale went.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>If Katniss was reaped into those games and didn’t come home, neither would her son.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He whispers, “she doesn’t have a mother to tell her she’s proud of her, because of me, Mom.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Gale...” her hands reach for his shoulder, but Katniss beats her to it.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Chastisement after chastisement leave the short Everdeen’s lips.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“I told you to stop apologizing!” Hazelle’s eyes widen and she almost chuckles. She’s a lovely girl. “It’s your birthday, Gale. I’d really love it if you could have <em>one</em> where you weren’t sad! You’re getting the ‘50th’ on your slice.” Katniss turns back to the cake, but before he shuffles over to join her, Hazelle grabs his wrist and Katniss tilts her head at her in question.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“I’m proud of both of you.” Katniss’ eyes go wide and she looks down at the cake. Her cheeks flare.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Before Gale can respond, Katniss yells with adoration, “Posy! Vick! Come have cake!” Then, a little bit of trademark Katniss snark is added to the tone. “Rory get off my sister, and come eat your dumbass brother’s cake!”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“You didn’t have to call me a dumbass, you know.” Gale murmurs with a grin, leaning against the counter.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Yes, she did.” Madge says, snatching two plates for her and Thom. Gale takes a moment to glare at her a little. Katniss laughs at the both of them. It’s been years and they still hold the most minuscule animosity, but then they all laugh, because fuck animosity.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Katniss slides him a piece of cake, a blue ‘50th’ taunting him in frosting. Gale rolls his eyes. Just before the chaos of children rush into the kitchen, Katniss rises to her toes, brushing her hand along the scars on the nape of his neck, and presses her lips to his ear.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>She whispers, “Happy Birthday, Gale.” Her eyes lower in conflict, and before Posy can attach herself to Katniss’ leg again, she pecks his lips. The words leave her with effort. “I love you, so much.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Gale’s eyes widen before the corners of his mouth quirk in an excited, child-like manner. As Posy grabs Katniss, he pushes his thumb into the cake, smudging the blue five, and brings it to his lips cheekily. Their family grabs their plates, unaware of Katniss’ confession; an arrogant, idiotic smirk grows on his face. She itches to smother it with cake, and kiss it away after.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He leans down to her ear, whispering past stray strands of hair, “I know.” She smiles at him haughtily, punching at his shoulder as everyone she loves laughs around crumbling cake.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>(Scars aren’t meant to be loved, but people who wear them are, and now that the war is over—well, I’ll let you decide.)</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>
      <strong>xiii. year two: she’s finally done counting.</strong>
    </em>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <strong>
      <em>~fin.</em>
    </strong>
  </p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I wish everyone loved Gale like I do</p></blockquote></div></div>
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